#that’s why we’re making headlines

[screampied]

ALEJANDRO! — GOJO SATORU. ☆

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. after an argument regarding gojo’s career, you two take a break and it hurts. you aren’t together, so why should you care? maybe the fame is getting to gojo’s head after all. because you see him get a new assistant the very next day.

word count. 6.9k (crying)

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo au, tiny angst ending, angst, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, you make up, squírting, implied multiple órgasms, overstim, dumbification, size kink, mixed feelings, impact play.

“satoru, are you even listening to me?” you furrow your brows in sheer annoyance. the popstar, more like the brat continued to look past you as he spoke. sometimes you questioned why you’d even put up with him for so long. of course, you grew a liking to him, as did he for you, maybe?

it was a brief silence and he rolls his eyes, burying his hands into his pockets. “i heard you. i just don’t care,” he replies before dramatically yawning. “i’m adding that track on the album whether you like it or not.”

you blink twice, he was so unserious. it was as if for a split second he forgot who he was.

the gojo satoru. the two of you were in public, currently outside of a shopping mall. he was secretly buying copies of his cds to get more sales before this meaningless altercation started. “i just think it’s not a good idea,” you sigh, feeling as if you probably weren’t gonna get through to him. “the label was strict on the duration, and—”

“you know what?” gojo abruptly cuts you off, trodding towards you. he leans forward, giving you a quick second glance before letting off a subtle scoff. “i can’t. we’re…this thing. whatever it is, we’re done,” and your eyes widen. him referring to whatever this thing was between the two of you as just something. perhaps it was foolish of you to think it would be something more.

without even thinking, you spit out, “fine. maybe you should get a new assistant then.”

“maybe i will, because someone doesn’t know how to fuckin' manage their client properly.”

oh.

it was an awkward dead silence after that. the awkwardness was so much, you could hear a pin drop.

as you glance up at the popstar, he looks unreadable. not a single thought through that brain of his. with hands buried in his pockets, he scoffs. “ya know how easy it is to replace you?”

“satoru, i’m trying to help you,” you furrow your eyebrows, briefly gawking around and trying not to make too much of a scene. you doubt lowering your tone a few notches would help. most likely, this little argument would be on the front headlines of tmz soon. “you don’t make the best decisions when it comes to things like this.”

“it’s gojo to you,” he rolls his eyes, and he turns his heels, staring to trod away. he pulls down his designer shades and he’s so dramatic. strutting down the sidewalk, he pulls out his phone before his lips curl into a pout. “address me right.”

you let off a sigh, purposely stepping right in front of him. he looks down at you, literally with a look of annoyance and slight vex.

“whatever, fine….gojo,” and you stare at him. honestly, the more you thought to yourself, why were you trying so hard? normal people would have taken the hint, but you…you felt the urge to keep testing his patience.

yet perhaps that wasn’t the brightest idea, because after all, you were dealing with a posh and snobby international brat. “firing me is only gonna make you look bad. besides, you know how the press-”

“princess, let me put it to you this way,” gojo mumbles, a toothpick casually sticking out near the corner of his mouth. the popstar gets right up close to you. you loathed how good he smelled—a rich cologne scent. specially, his own signature cologne from his very own brand.

the more he inches closer towards your face, the more you feel a tingly feeling creep its way inside your stomach. “i want nothing to do with you anymore, assistant,” and his voice, it had little to no emotion—you give him the same share of eye contact, trying to stand your ground but for some reason his words hit you like a gut punch.

a full blown gut punch to be exact. you’ve managed this brat for practically a various length of months, only for all it to go to waste from a stupid argument.

“you’re replaceable, and if you don’t wanna do your job then i’ll find someone else,” he shrugs, dusting off the shoulder parts of his leather bedazzled jacket. gojo tilts his head, studying your facial expression. in the midst of saying something, he continued, “besides, you said it yourself. to get myself a new assistant.”

“so you’re just throwing this all away?” you utter, a mere deadpan plastered on his face.

gojo grows quiet as you speak, yet he groans with a subtle eye roll. the secondhand embarrassment got to you too. again—why were you trying so hard? a question not ever you yourself could answer at that particular moment. “did me saying 'i love you' not mean anything?”

oh fuck.

you didn’t mean to say that. but at this particular moment, you kind of didn’t care.

maybe you were just a tad bit delusional but it couldn’t have been just you. out of all the times you spent with this popstar, getting to know him, saving him the trouble of getting himself hurt by fans….anything.

there had to be something there … right?

you did tell gojo you loved him out of the blue. just right after the grammys last week, it slipped out. one of the most embarrassing positions you’ve been in.

and the worst part was that gojo didn’t even say it back. more like he figured girls with him always said they loved him after having a mind-blowing orgasm from him. so you brushed it off, laughing it off awkwardly and he did the same. yet, you decided it’d be the smart idea and bring that simple reoccurrence up right now.

gojo runs a hand through his hair, pulling the tooth pick out of his mouth before scoffing. “not this again,” and with another sassy eye roll, he shifts his feet into the ground, “you’re not gonna win this argument, princess. it was fun, i’ll admit that.”

stupidity couldn’t have plastered on your face even more than that particular moment.

gojo left you there, unemployed and a total idiot.

for whatever reason, the strange ache in your heart tightened as you watched him walk away with that same fake-grin he’d have for the entire world to see. winking at his multiple die-hard fan girls.

although, it’s barely the next day before you spot gojo at some expensive shopping store reserved for only a-list celebrities. seeing him wasn’t what initially caught your attention, it was seeing him with another girl.

that made your eyebrows curl up into the biggest furrow imaginable. by him saying you were easy to replace, you didn’t think he’d be so quick.

giving her the exact same treatment he gave you, you nearly choke on your pretzel, observing the two of them.

gojo has an arm slung over her, his loud laughter that could be heard from just about a mile away.

was this jealousy you were feeling? it would be stupid, the two of you weren’t even together nor were exclusive—yet seeing your client, well ex-client made you feel a certain type of way. it was not to anyone’s surprise, seeing the numerous headlines of celebrity gossip headlines talk about the entire kerfuffle.

whatever happened to you…?

lots of people speculated the two of you were dating on the low, especially after what occurred at one of his most famous controversial performances. gojo fucking you whilst his mic was on the entire time. you’d probably never be able to live that down with him, neither would he to say the least.

you didn’t even know his new assistant’s name, but you already disliked her. the way she’d laugh at literally anything that came out of gojo’s mouth. he could let off an obnoxious belch and she’d think it was the most funniest thing in the world.

after a while, they end up leaving and you let off a irritated scoff.

maybe you were dramatic, but you wouldn’t lie and say that it stung a bit. the thought—no, the sheer reality of being replaced. you thought you were getting somewhere with the popstar.

out of the many myriad talks the two of you shared, including him even opening up about his past relationship—you figured maybe there was some kind of spark. but maybe, you thought wrong.

gojo said he was going to replace you, and that’s exactly what he did.

coincidentally enough though, you stayed over gojo’s penthouse the last time the two of you were together. you still had his key and forgot to give it to him. dragging your feet towards his residence, you grumbled.

how convenient.

you really weren’t in the mood to talk to him. besides from last time you could remember, he ended up ‘accidentally’ misplacing your panties too.

you decided to suck it up, making your way towards the popstar’s well kept home. you pause at the doormat that read in bold grassy letters, ‘home of a guy with a large dick’ and gibe. so unserious, to think he was one of the most popular pop artists known to date. he was always known to spend his money on the most witless things.

bawling up your fist, you prepare to knock on the front of the door. but instead, you just unlock it with the key. there’d be no point, besides, you’d be in and out, right? wrong…

because the moment you open the door, stood a real tall and shirtless satoru gojo. it was as if he knew you’d show up.

“mhm. just can’t get enough of me, huh,” gojo cocks his head towards the right, giving you a long four second glance. you felt your face get hot, the singer was in nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist. his figure, quite slim and well built. droplets of water raced down his v-line, and you couldn’t help but sneak a long stare. “should get ya arrested for trespassin'.”

your eye twitches, finding it hard to look at him in the eye before you grumble. “i’m not stalking you, idiot. i came to give you your spare key back,” and then as he’s blankly staring at you, you halt your speech a bit before mumbling. “…and i came to get my panties back.”

“girl…huh? you’re mumbling. can’t understand ya.”

gojo sneers, and you hated how flawless his perfectly toned body was. it was distracting you, your thoughts, words, everything. the way the white towel was just barely hanging onto his waist.

his waist…so slim.

he was perfectly sculptured from his hips to further down. with a hand of his, he tugs the fabric of the towel up a bit, you were just about to spot a few specks of white hair. his happy trail, one of your favorite things about his body. how the hair just ran down and down. his sharp v-line was a force to be reckoned with. it wasn’t much a surprise that gojo was fit though, he was a trained dancer after all.

“i said,” you start to repeat yourself, trying to snap yourself out of whatever lewd trance he had you in. “…i want my panties back.”

“you came to see me jus’ to get those back?” gojo smirks, intaking a sharp breath before running a hand through his dampened hair. “is this your way of telling me you’re not wearing any panties right now?”

“i—” you utter, being cut off by mere embarrassment. gojo giggles at your lack of response, raising his head just a bit whilst awaiting your response. “can you be serious? why would i show up to your house without any underwear?”

gojo smugly grins. “you tell me. besides, what makes you think i have them?”

you glare at him and he pokes his bottom lip out. “fine, whatever. geez,” and then he moves in front of you, closing the broad door shut. you make your way inside of his doorway, awkwardly shifting your weight with your feet as he took a few steps back. “it’s in the ah…laundry room. had one of my maid’s do the load ‘n they got your stuff mixed up with mine.”

you follow gojo towards downstairs, where his huge laundry room was kept. it’s not like you had to necessarily follow him. you knew the layout of his penthouse like the back of your hand. nevertheless you were on his heels, pulling down on your skirt at the awkward silence.

was he just gonna be quiet the entire time?

him walking in front of you gave you the perfect chance to stare at his back, his back muscles specially…

it was unintentionally sexy, each step he took you watched as his muscles flex and crook together. still, he wasn’t exactly dry. it was a few leftover droplets of water racing down his back. you could make out a few scratch marks near his back as well, you were trying to remember if that was your doing or someone else.

“watch your step.”

immediately, you get cut off with gojo’s words and you fall face first into a steep like area. he groans, catching you with quick reflexes. “still so clumsy,” he mutters, and you stare up at the popstar. he returns a gaze, and then he looks away, getting you back on your feet. “c��mon..”

it was gauche—being handed your own bawled up panties. “um, thank you,” you tell him with the most somewhat neutral expression. gojo studies your eyes for a moment before nodding. the silence was killing you, and right when he was about to make his way back upstairs, you tug on his arm. “wait.”

“yeah?” he sighs deeply, bringing a hand towards his face to wipe his eyes. “did you forget something else?”

“no,” you roll your eyes, dragging your words out slowly. “you know why i really came here.”

“do i?” gojo tilts his head, leaning against the dryer. his towel hung onto his slim waist for dear life. you hated how he was playing coy, he knew the exact words that was about to go past your lips. “help me understand.”

you glare. “you don’t even like your new assistant.”

“woah now, that’s not true,” gojo brings his hands towards his hips. such sassy mannerisms, it made your eyes roll into the very back depths of your head. “for your information, i actually adore april, vivian, eh…whatever her name is.”

you deadpan, and gojo simpers. “…oh,” and his voice pitches a deep low. it makes you feel a bit of tingles in areas you’d rather not disclose. “is this your way of telling me that you miss me? you miss us?”

“obviously you don’t.” you utter, meeting straight eye contact with the popstar. the smile that lingers across his lips, he inches a bit closer towards you and it makes you nervous.

“i never said i didn’t miss you,” gojo snickers.

each inch he creates towards you, gradually closing the inelegant distance between the two of you, he brings a hand up to your face. it catches you by the upmost surprise, and he strokes a thumb against your cheek. “it’s clear you missed me though. can’t last a day without me. maybe you really are my biggest fan.”

the nerve, it made you narrow your eyes and gojo only smiles. “mhm. but fine, maybe i did miss you a little. kinda miss being put in my place if i’m being entirely honest, princess.”

you look up at him, and he’s very much serious from what you can tell. gojo’s thumb stroking against your cheek was so undeniably sensual. you intake a sharp breath, and he’s giving you an intense stare. suddenly, you felt hot and that’s when you come to the hurried realization that you were completely cornered. 

you were pinned back against the front door of the dryer, he had you right exactly where he wanted you. “you didn’t have to be such an asshole, though.”

“maybe,” he says, and then you gasp once he leans right into your neck, planting a single kiss near your collarbone. you almost forgot what his touch felt like. if it was anything about gojo, it was that he could never get enough of your taste. “i didn’t mean it. i jus’ wanted to piss you off.”

“satoru—” you’d grumble, yet that’s when he softly cups your chin.

“yeah yeah. scold me later, baby,” he murmurs, and his voice was so raspy. it was as if he was longing to kiss all over you, coat your skin with a plethora of invisible markings. it’s exactly what he does. his touch felt so warm, the same smug grin never leaves his face—oh, how you hated it. although, the more you stared at his perfect lips, the more you wanted to kiss him. “you want a kiss?” he hums, as if he’s nonchalantly reading your mind again. you give him a nod, pressed right up against the cold dryer and his body—gojo swipes a thumb over your lips, inching closer and closer before he pauses. “mhm. i’ll give you a kiss if you tell me pretty please.”

you’re sending him straight daggers. as gojo presses right up against you, he’s so close that the soft fabric of the towel brushes all on your skin. it tickles, and you then feel it push up against you. his bulge, his bulge that stuck out despite having a lengthy towel shielding his pure nudity from underneath his torso. your lips quavered, desperately wanting to feel his own mouth mash against yours. “s-satoru.”

“mhm. for an assistant, ya don’t seem to like followin' instructions,” he whispers right next to your lip. the warmth of his breath wafts right beside your own lips and it makes a small whine fly right out of your mouth. “you missed me so bad. all like this for a kiss, adorable.”

“prettypleaseprettypleasee,” you’d pout, and you don’t even realize you’re pouting until he smiles, pointing it out. gojo gives in within seconds, squeezing your chin and bringing you into a deep passionate kiss.

it started slow like it always did, with that same thumb of his coolly skimming beneath your chin, you part your lips. chaste—the perfect word to describe the kiss, it was a mixture of sloppy and straight lust. gojo had a sweet taste of peppermint on his tongue, you moaned the moment he started to get handsy. a smile curls against his lips once he feels your failed attempt to yank his towel off.

gojo only then reaches down between your legs, past your skirt — pulling up your thigh, he hums right into your mouth once his fingers only feel nothing but soft skin. “ooh,” he briefly pulls away, sneaking a kiss near the inner part of your jaw. “i was right. no panties,” and then he tsks. “how unprofessional.”

“shut up,” you huff, and he lets you remove the towel. gojo’s dampened body collides against yours, and he’s almost grinding against you—you initiate the kiss this time. wrapping both arms over his broad shoulders, your tongue continued to battle for dominance with his. each nanosecond his breathing picked up, casually racing within itself. everything around you felt warm, you felt like you were floating, burning up hot, but floating.

it’s only been a day, perhaps half a day but it felt like years. you didn’t care if this made you appear to be obsessed or whatever. all you knew was that you wanted this stupid popstar.

gojo slips off a whine once he feels you reach for his length, giving him a few concise strokes. “f-fuckin’ damn, i’m a little sensitive from earlier,” and as he breathlessly speaks between kisses, gojo’s the one to grow a bit timid now and he gives you a dazed glance. “heh, don’t look at me like that. it turns me on when you’re angry at me.”

“you’re so weird,” you deadpan, and you shudder even more. feeling a hand over yours wrap around his length. gojo’s nostrils briefly flare up, and as he’s intaking a breath, he tosses the towel to the side. you glance down, staring at his bulge and it makes the popstar a bit…nervous.

“f-fuck,” he’d groan, and that’s the exact moment where out of nowhere—gojo lifts you up. he sits you on top of the lid of the dryer, spreading your legs open. with a big hand, he slowly but surely pries them open, taking a good peak between them. “such a bold girl. comin’ to see me like this,” and he presses his lips towards the inner part of your thigh. you moan, watching gojo then lap out his tongue to lick a long stripe right near the crevice of your leg. “taste just as sweet as i remember.”

“don’t tease me, ‘toru.” you’d whine, feeling him leave sloppy kisses and bites all over your thighs. he ran his tongue up your leg, stopping right once he reached near your slick entrance.

gojo hums, cerulean eyes meeting yours for a second. his gaze was forever attractive, the way his eyes would trail up and down your body. he leans up close towards between your legs, and uses two fingers to spread your folds apart. “don’t tease me ‘toruuuu, she says,” he mocks your whiney delivery, and the popstar briefly laps his tongue against your clit for about three seconds. those three seconds was enough to throw you over the edge. his tongue was so long and pretty — a pretty bright pink, and you stared at it the entire time. “hm. assistants shouldn’t be this soaked.”

“don’t e-eat me out, wait,” you breathe, grabbing a fistful of his perfect whitened strands. gojo looks at you with a pompous grin, just preparing to dig in before you pull his head up. “just fuck me.”

“well excuse me then,” he rolls his eyes, making a fake caught off guard gasp. gojo takes one look at your glistened slit, a tiny pout going against his lips. “but how else am i gonna warm up my vocals, princess?”

“…you can’t warm up your vocals by eating pussy, satoru,” you mutter, not even believing you have to say that…then again, it’s satoru gojo. you shouldn’t even be so surprised anymore. the cute scowl that plastered across his face only widened. he sits up, moving you closer towards him. you sat on the cold lid of the dryer, and you watch as he springs his cock out.

gojo grouses. “oh fineee, be boring. let me starve, whatever,” and he’s so sassy it’s cute, the way his eyebrows curl up into a furrow. his dimples press against both sides of his temples, and you gasp once he aligns himself against your sleek entrance.

“i can’t even be that mad,” he suddenly breathes, a bit of a shakiness nearing his tone. “you’re so wet f’me, damnnn,” and you bite your lip as he starts to sink himself in. his fat tip - it prods against your folds, squeezing itself inside with such ease. “missed her bad,” and he pauses, watching himself disappear inside your cunt. the loud welcoming squelch your cunt made as a response to gojo’s length was music to his ears. your legs felt like mush and he presses a hand down your thigh. “listen to her, how she talks to me all nasty.”

“h-hurry up, satoruuu,” you’d whimper, his dirty talk sending you straight shivers to roam all throughout your body. he’d always speak to your pussy as if it could talk back, one of the many filthy things he’s loved doing with you. you couldn’t wait anymore, you wanted him. one thing about gojo, he loved more than anything to take his time with you.

he wanted to make sure you felt every inch of him. your jaw dropped, feeling how thick he started to stretch you out. spurts of his own pre-cum coating all against your entrance.

he pants, starting to pant before he sinks a bit further inside of you. “uh—! don’t rush me. ‘s rude,” he creates a faux pout, and he briefly pulls out to slap his throbbing plump tip near the very front part of your entrance. he was teasing you so bad, you didn’t even register that you were laid flat on top of the machine, legs sprawled and your jaw nearly hanging. he was so big, such inches to leave you stuffed for many many for days. you hugged his cock much thanks to your walls, and gojo groans. “s-so warm..”

gojo was so hard and pent up, he gnaws on his lip before going in just a bit further. he starts to pant a bit, staring at how good you grip down on him. nice and snug, he brings a thumb towards the top part of your clit, smearing your own slick over your folds before he’s just about half way in. “you take sooo f-fuckin’ long.”

he giggles at the way your words were a bit slurred, your tummy heaved as he was gradually easing himself inside. “thought i told ya not to rush me, princess,” and you moaned once you felt him present you with an abrupt thrust that makes you jolt back—grabbing onto his arm. “mhm. what did i say last time? patience is a virgin, heh.”

“it’s virtue, you idiot.” you whined, your eyes nearly roll back from how good he splits your wetness into two. gojo was long, deliciously lengthy with such fat girth. he wasn’t particularly thick, but he had quite the height on him.

“virgin, virtue, same thing.” the popstar cheeses, and you moaned once he finally starts up a pace.

you had to cling onto his wrists, babbling off all kinds of pathetic whimpers. your sweet whines bounced off the walls—just reverberating across the entire room. you hope no one heard you.

his muscles, way near his ripped abs . . they clench and flex, and it’s so attractive. his body was almost dry, almost. however, he was just a bit damp near his happy trail and past his sharp v-line.

“f-fuckkk,” you’d swallow, barely being able to hold on. it only took a few pre-thrusts for him to figure out his pace and seconds later, you’re being ruthlessly drilled into. his hips, the way they struck into you at a sensual movement had your head spinning. nails of yours claw into his arm and he smiles, making sure to reach every spot.

regarding yesterday, gojo wasn’t necessarily lying. he didn’t mean everything he said, he just likes to talk and talk and talk.

much of that was quite apparent, and he knew you’d come running right back to him. misplacing your panties or not. although, the big question was forever a mystery with him.

…did he love you?

what do you even consider this ‘thing’ you two have? multiple unanswered ignored questions. gojo’s hips were smooth against you, jerking back and forth. he’s got a hand gripping onto your thigh as you’re sat up against the cold lid. you stupidly confessed to him, and he figured you were just saying it to say it.

unprofessional, sure. delusional, maybe…

but you knew you couldn’t be crazy. there had to be at least something between the two of you. the way he kisses you, friends don’t just do that. friends don’t kiss like that.

…is what you kept telling yourself.

his strokes had you losing your mind, sputtering nonsense—gojo watches you, and he leans up close to bring a finger towards your lips. a thumb of his pulls your bottom lip down, and he inches closer before giving you a fervent wet kiss. he ran his tongue against yours, and he was stuffing you so full that your legs merely gave out. “h-harder,” you’d whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. a smirk tugs on his lips and you spot his dimples poke out through your half-lidded peripherals. that’s when gojo then decided to deepens his hits. “harder, harder, harderrrr..”

“slower, baby yeah?” gojo teases, and he purposely brings his hips to a slowing halt.

the frown that goes against your lips was too cute. the popstar chuckles, his dick twitching inside you. he’s stirring up your insides perfectly before he stops his pace. you whine, scratching at his back this time and he hums. “ohhh. don’t like that? ‘m sorry,” he didn’t mean that apology. not in the slightest. he goes back to playing with hour bottom lip, stroking against it before sliding a finger into your mouth. “such pretty lips, so good for suckin’.”

you moaned, immediately sucking his finger before he adds another. he swabs all around your mouth before you briefly end up gagging.

“forgot how sloppy ya always get for me,” and he’s fucking you so deep, your warmth drives him wild. his base, the way it smacks and thwacks right against your entrance has your mind going in a loop. “get my fingers nice ‘n wet, good girl. coat ‘em real sweet. juuuuust like that, princess.”

his candied words, it had you pulsing.

the moment gojo starts up his vigorous pace again, you’re whimpering. he can never stand still though. one second you’re sat on top of the dryer, the next he drags you towards the cushioned sofa. you crave more of him, his dick reached all the right spot and oh, your maw was dropped.

“s-satoruuu,” you’d huff out, and he’d have you in a subtle mating press now. he’d have you on all fours, but he was a lazy man. he’d prefer to look you dead into your eyes the moment you were reaching your inevitable peak. “so d-deeeep.”

“perfect fit for you,” he murmurs in a husky rasp.

gojo’s balls deep, it’s a tight fit and he’s just ramming right into your dripping cunt. you coat him with so much of your slick, it’s messy.

exactly how he liked it too. you whine, feeling him drive such rough thrusts into you. this position, it was so lewd. the perfect angle to grab you by the chin and shove his tongue down your throat. it’s what he does too, sneaking various kisses near your lips, the very corner of your mouth, anywhere and everywhere.

gojo groans, feeling you start to grip and grasp a bit tighter against him. it’s his turn for his eyes to roll back, and he looks so pretty. your pussy’s got him in a trance. a trance he never wanted to escape out of.

“damn, y-you’re so soakin’ for me. makin’ me jus’ as messy as you, baby,” he pants, and you feel him continuously twitch inside of you. gojo lightly lifts up your leg, and he starts to nibble near your ankle. you whine, feeling yourself approach a nearby orgasm. the thought of leaving a slick mess on his cock made your mouth water.

you needed it.

he slams back into you each time, it gives you whiplash. sweetened murmurs of his name were the only words to leave past your spit-glossed lips, and you moan a drawn out, “t-think ‘m getting close, ‘toru. really close, fuckkk.”

“wait a little, princess,” he slyly remarks, and you feel his hips piston. you were dumbfounded, stupid even. his stamina, practically non existent. right when you think he’s finished he starts up again. you’re dumbly nodding your head in endorsement from the way he’s got you thumping back against the cushion. “wait for meee.” and he starts singing.

he’s mocking you, he strokes your chin before flashing you a teasing grin. it’s not funny anymore once his voice cracks and he clears his throat to play it off. “eheh.”

“i c-can’t,” you’d stammer, and you gasp once you feel a single coil within you snap. you’re an entire mess underneath him. his dick, so lengthy it made you salivate entirely. gojo reached every single orifice inside of your pussy, every edge, every corner. like most people knew the layouts of places, he knew the exact layout of your pussy. every single time. “oh my g-goddd.”

gojo’s jaw tightens, and as you’re being pummeled into the mattress. you end up squirting, gushing out so much.

gojo doesn’t realize it until he looks into your dilated irises, and pauses. “oooooh,” he purrs, his words sounding in the form of a curious question. “did you just squirt?”

silence was your answer, and he just hums. gojo stares down, bringing a thumb towards your swollen slit, massaging against the entrance and you shudder. “fuck. you fuckin’ squirter,” he coos, his voice grows a bit low, a deep deep low. you pulse, making a cute attempt to hide your face but he pulls your hands away. “awwww, baby, baby. don’t hide that face from me. i like my assistants messy anyway.”

you were drenched beneath him, gojo leans in to kiss you.

so sensual yet filled with the most passion. you whimpered, feeling his toned body rock against you. hands of yours roamed down his back, pulling him close and he allows his tongue to part right against yours. he didn’t know what it was about you but he knew for certain that you were addicting.

his taste, it was enchanted with sweetness. minty and all, you allow his tongue to ghost amongst your own — and that’s right when gojo moans into your mouth.

he’s buried deep into you, and he briefly pulls away, a pretty cobweb of glistening spit departs from your lips and he groans. “damnnn, ‘m cumming too,” and it was so abrupt. he didn’t expect it.

once goio’s load came, it was so thick.

stringy, multiple ropes shot inside you to make you permanently feel his warmth. mating press, the most perfect position if not one of the best positions to get stuffed full like this.

“s-shitttt,” he starts to whine, and it was far more then be intended for it to be. you were being pumped full of cum, it takes a lot out of him. quite literally, he pauses his hips and takes a moment.

there, you laid and lingering over you with the most feral look was gojo. his weight briefly lingers over you — and the look he’s giving you, you’re pulsing heavily. he starts heaving and heaving, beads of sweat racing down his and before he blinks. “milkin’ me s-so much,” and then be slowly lifts your leg up, throwing it over his shoulder. “still have more though. wanna see your tummy all plump. spillin’ everything out, just for me to see.”

and he does exactly what he says, gojo even pulls out just to watch his own cum spill out. it makes him pout, and he plugs his dick back inside once he starts up again. you moaned, feeling the stickiness all over your inner thighs. it was his favorite part. watching his own viscid cum run down your plush thighs, only to then shove some of it back into your folds.

the popstar was addicted to you, there was no doubt. sure, he’d be a drama queen and say he’s done with you — but you and him both knew the sheer reality. perhaps gojo shared the same feelings, he just didn’t wanna admit it.

falling in love in the entertainment industry was always a scary thing. especially for gojo. but part of you wanted to change that. if he’d let you.

gojo fucked you through numerous positions.

each one leaving you with teeth-shattering orgasms. it was never ending, it felt so good that you never wanted it to end. it was to the point where sweet cacophonies of, “s-satoruuu,” and “pleaseeee,” rang throughout his ears. only he could make you whimper out the prettiest babbles for him.

he’d have you riding him at this point, and he’s in the midst of dumping another warm load right into you. gojo stares in awe at how your hips grind and move effortlessly against him. he’s got a hand attached to your right hip, and he spanks your ass. “f-fuckkk, keep movin’ like that. make me cum, make me fuckin’ cum.”

and once he came inside you for probably the umpteenth time, you steady your hips, leaning in to give the popstar a kiss near his neck. he moans from your touch, pulling you close to him as your legs felt nearly nonexistent.

“good girl, easy e-easyyy,” he purrs against your ear, and you’re putty within his hands practically. he runs a hand down your back, moving a few strands out of your face before he’s panting right with you. he grows quiet for a moment before swallowing. “damn. that was,” and he’s breaking between each of his words, pulling you right into his bare chest. “. . so hot. you should really get more jealous like this, princess.”

“i wasn’t— i wasn’t jealous,” you huff out, leaning back to stare at him. gojo smirks, his eyes averting towards your lips before back towards your face. “but satoru. you still— you never answered my question from before.”

he raises a brow, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his palm. “hm? what question.”

“…okay,” you intake a breath, feeling as though you had ran an entire marathon. “what does this mean? you um.. never said anything about being exclusive.”

“do you wanna be exclusive?” gojo sneers, cocking his head towards the left.

“i’m being serious.” you mumble, he’s still buried inside you and you shift a bit on his lap.

the popstar rolls his eyes. “girl, so am i,” and he plants a kiss near the corner of your mouth. “the press already thinks we’re dating. especially after seeing us bicker like an old couple in public.”

“so...” you look up at him, returning a kiss near his lip. your eyes basically spoke for you and he understood what you were trying to hint at.

“sooo,” he mimics you, stroking a thumb against your hip.

“if we’re gonna be together, you need to fire that new assistant.” you grouse.

“oh right riiiight,” gojo snickers. “i’ll fire her extra hard just for you, baby.”

you pause with the most noticeable deadpan. “that doesn’t even make sense.”

gojo simpers. “geez, we gotta work on that sense of humor. anything i say is supposed to be funny to you,” and he wraps an arm around you—you feel warm, pulled into his strong warm embrace. “mhm. but now that we’re finally together, i do wanna start off by saying how much i love you.”

“huh?” you croak.

gojo smugly grins, nudging you. “you heard me. i love you,” and he kisses your lips for a split second, only to pull away to watch you fully register what he just said. after what felt like ages, he finally said it back.

“r-really?” you’d softly utter, starting to feel warm all over your body. it was all your mouth could mutter out, your eyes were slightly agape and you couldn’t believe he’d return the same feelings.

“mhmmm,” he nods, stroking your back. gojo brings you into a kiss, and you kiss back, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

you felt a weight get lifted off your shoulders, and you lean forward towards him, a brief body language sign that you wanted to start up again. his sweet taste had you whining for more, your legs locked over his waist…. and that’s right when he squeezes the right part of your ass. a good firm grip, leaning back for you to take control of him.

“so he loves you, huh.”

you’re interrupted by a low raspy voice, you break away . . . and everything was so quick, a blink of an eye. you’re staring at gojo and his reaction was just as yours was slow. he stares, not at you—but from behind you where apparently a tall broad figure was.

a loud bang rang throughout the room, and gojo choked out a gasp. again, your reaction was slow. for a second, it was like time stopped. you watched in front of you as gojo clenches his heart, a faint breathy gasp for air before he falls backwards. it was the screeching ring of a shot.

you heard what sounded like cocking in the background and you immensely crawl off of gojo’s lap.

“s-satoru?” you stammer, not even believing your eyes—you were far too scared to look behind you, let alone look near your peripherals. gojo grunts, his eyes flickering and you then after seconds later, you end up turning around to see him.

toji.

“hey girl,” he nods, that familiar smug expression never leaving his face, “miss me? i let you have your fun for a while,” toji snickers, blowing the smoke out of the muzzle. as he walks towards you, his footsteps were awfully loud. you froze, glancing down at gojo who had a awfully pale color starting to quickly take over his skin.

words couldn’t leave your lips for whatever reason, it was as if you were mute—lip locked.

you felt numb, entirely so. gojo’d just said he loved you back, and now he looked almost lifeless.

“what do you think would be a better headline? ‘famous popstar found unresponsive at the scene!’ or uh.. ‘popstar 'satoru gojo' gets into a fight with his assistant’s boyfriend and things get a little…messy’.”

“we aren’t even together anymore. fuck you, toji.” you spat, fat incoming tears blinding your vision practically.

“you did that a long time ago, sweetheart,” toji purrs, you could hear the enjoyment in his voice. “and technically, we never broke up,” he corrects you with a shrug. “oh boo hoo, enough with the tears. should be thanking me, really. no one can love you like i can. told ya i’d come back for you,” and then he chuckles behind your ear, a rough hand going on your shoulder. “now let’s go home, princess.”

[xo100]

Where only we exist - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando Norris and his new wife, on their honeymoon, share a quiet dinner under the stars. In awe of her, he realizes that in this moment, nothing else matters but their love.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 664

*:･ﾟ A/N: it’s a little shorter then usual next ones will be normal again!

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The golden hues of the setting sun draped themselves over the intimate rooftop restaurant where Lando Norris sat, entirely captivated. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, his wife, across the candlelit table, her face glowing under the delicate lights that hung from above. She was laughing at something he’d said, though truthfully, he hadn’t been paying attention to the words tumbling out of his mouth; he’d been watching her all night, marveling at how someone so breathtakingly beautiful was now his.

They’d agreed to keep things private when they started dating. A few shared glances in the paddock, maybe a quick smile or two for those who noticed, but most of their relationship was a secret, a hidden joy shared between the two of them. They loved it that way—their little world, untouched by cameras and prying eyes. And even now, on their honeymoon, they were cautious. They’d avoided the busy streets and larger restaurants, choosing this hidden gem above the city’s twinkling lights, hoping for a moment of peace.

But tonight, as she looked back at him with a little smile that had his heart flipping in his chest, Lando found himself caring less and less about keeping their secret.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling, her voice soft with that teasing lilt he loved so much.

“Like what?” he replied, feigning innocence, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him with a small grin. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, watching her, still in awe.

“Like… I don’t know.” She lowered her gaze for a moment, looking almost shy, though she knew exactly what she was doing, her lips curling into a smile. “Like you’re completely in love or something.”

“Maybe I am,” he said without missing a beat, reaching across the table to lace his fingers with hers. There was a tenderness in his gaze, something deep and unspoken that had always been there but had only grown stronger since the moment he’d said, I do.

Her cheeks flushed under his stare, and she shook her head slightly, the tiniest laugh escaping her lips. “You’re making me blush, baby.”

“And you look stunning when you blush,” he replied, his voice a low murmur, almost as if it were a secret just between them.

They hadn’t been together long before they realized that what they shared was different. Genuine. Effortless. And despite the constant hustle and pressure of his world, she grounded him. With her, he felt safe. He felt home. So tonight, he let himself forget about the paparazzi who might be lurking down on the streets or the speculation that always seemed to follow them.

“Lan, they’re going to catch us if we’re not careful,” she reminded him gently, glancing over her shoulder, ever aware of the possibility of cameras.

“Let them,” he replied softly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Let them see how lucky I am. How I’m never letting you go.”

For a moment, the world melted away—the clinking of dishes, the distant hum of city traffic, even the thought of prying eyes. There was only the two of them, hand in hand, with Lando looking at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you,” she whispered, barely audible over the soft jazz playing in the background. But he heard her, and that was enough.

He smiled, squeezing her hand as he leaned across the table, his eyes twinkling with that boyish charm that had first captured her heart. “I love you more. And no camera, no headline, and no crowd will ever change that.”

And as they sat there, sharing soft words and quiet glances, he was reminded of just how deeply he cherished every moment with her. The world outside could wait. Right now, all he cared about was her, and he was content to stay that way forever.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[taylorswiftstyle]

Chiefs vs Ravens | Kansas City, MO | September 5, 2024

Versace 'Medusa Bustier' - $1,325.00 For Future Reference 'Vintage 1970s Ancient Bronze Coin Necklace' - $12,750.00 Three Stories Jewelry 'Single Long Love Explosion Starburst Charm' - $590.00 EF Collection 'Diamond Mini Huggie & Prong Set Chain Stud Earring' - $850.00 Wove Made x Michelle Wie West 'Custom Diamond Tennis Bracelet’ - $5,680.00 (starting) Lizzie Mandler 'Three Row Cleo Bracelet' - $18,300.00 Howl Jewelry 'Ruby Cocoon Ring' - $4,800.00 Retrouvai 'Cushion Ruby Impetus Interlocking Puzzle Ring' - $29,100.00 Louis Vuitton 'Side Trunk Bag' - $3,950.00 Grlfrnd 'Whitney Shorts' - $115.00 Giuseppe Zanotti 'Frannie Boots' - $1,650.00

Touchdown - she’s back. Many wondered how Taylor’s style playbook would shift (if at all) for “National Sportsball Observation”: Season Two. You might recall that during her “rookie” season, Taylor’s opening outfit was, as we’re calling it now, demure. A simple, lace-trimmed white cotton tank to + denim shorts + sneakers + a Chiefs jacket she picked up at the Arrowhead pro shop. As a way of testing the waters in a completely new setting, it was a lowkey, casual entrypoint into a very headline-exploding relationship launch. As we saw her continue to show up to games, her clothing choices became bolder. Bigger jackets, taller heels, tighter bustiers, cheekier cut denim. It all signalled a growing confidence in herself — and her relationship. 

When you makeout on the field at the Superbowl, there’s no going back to demure. This denim on denim moment is obviously sexy, and yet entirely familiar to where we last left off with Taylor’s game day fashion thanks to some repeat silhouettes. Which in my opinion makes this an extremely well executed strategic start to her season - and a hot and spicy one to boot!

Bustiers: Bustiers + corsets have become TTPD’s “signature” item. She wore plenty to previous Chiefs games last year. You might even recognize this exact one because she wore it in black the night she ‘killahardlaunched’ her relationship with Travis when they were photographed leaving Saturday Night Live in October 2023. 

Jewelry Stacking: Another era-specific signature that became key over the course of TTPD. Taylor became comfortable heavily layering larger, statement pieces of jewelry over the last few years. 

Denim: Taylor wore a lot of denim last year (like the distressed Ksubis from her first game and a crystallised Area pair at the NY game). But to go denim on denim feels like a pointed “painting the town blue” democratic signal to me. 

Boots: Thigh high boots by Louboutin and Larroude were incorporated into her game day style through the winter games.  

As an aside, this particular cut and fabrication of bustier is giving me flashbacks to her 2023 MTV VMA after-party look, which was by EB Denim. Given the 2024 VMAs are next week, I can’t get over the genius use of slideshowing.

As we saw throughout Taylor’s game day fashion playbook last year, she would often employ sentimental pieces through her jewelry. Items that were named for certain goddesses, or that were adorned with a certain jersey number. It was a subtle way of bejeweling a little bit of romance into her outfit.

The ‘Long Love’ name feels both appropriate to the circumstances for why she’s at the game and it also sounds a lot like her own song “Long Live”.

For her Retrouvai piece, the brand notes that it is from their “Impetus collection” which includes a lot of puzzle motifs that they say “represent that we are each individually part of a much larger picture. The force behind this collection was thinking about the idea of purpose and drive.” Love that!

As a repeat, Taylor also rewore her 'TNT' bracelet - a custom gift to her from Travis she wore when the Chiefs won the 2023 AFC Division game against the Ravens back in January. What a full circle moment to reference as they kick off the 2024-2025 season.

Just this past summer, FFR launched a curated collection of unsigned, one-of-a-kind vintage pieces exclusive to Bergdorfs. The pieces range from the 1940s through to the 1980s.

Upon launch, FFR founder Randi Molofsky told National Jeweler, “I think the idea of vintage is in the zeitgeist, and clients are actively seeking out jewelry that has stood the test of time.”

It’s not surprising to me that Taylor would gravitate towards a stunning vintage piece like this. She’s long loved vintage fashion since she began to incorporate it into her wardrobe around the Speak Now era and really leaned into the aesthetic in the RED era. Just last summer, she acquired a vintage Cartier necklace she wore often that was valued at just above $27,000.

I reached out to Randi Molofsky directly who told me a bit of history with this special one-of-a-kind vintage piece. “This one-of-a-kind vintage necklace is the ultimate in sexy 1970s style — it’s bold and powerful and makes a real statement,” said Molofsky. “In the ‘70s, oversized medallions and chunky chains had a major moment — heavily influenced by the disco movement and Italian resort style — and that look is having a resurgence now. I love that Taylor chose vintage for this moment not only because is it good for the planet, but because these pieces have lived lives before us and they will still be treasured for generations to come.”

Taylor often will wear a lot of red-tinged jewelry to her Chiefs games as an obvious nod to their team colours which makes the Howl ruby ring make total sense here. But a part of me can’t help but smirk at the ‘three row’ bracelet and wonder if it’s an optimistic fingers crossed moment for a Chiefs Super Bowl threepeat (they won the big trophy in consecutive years in 2023 and 2024).

Lastly - those 'girlfriend' shorts? Girl, please.

Photo by David Eulitt via Getty Images

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (8)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : I had to cut some scenes, explained in the notes below, to be saved for a bonus chap or drabble. Also, I altered the outline, and this story isn't ending with 9 as originally intended. Happy Chem Ov release day! Enjoy 🖤

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader is left confused by Ewan's online stunt. If he really is content with keeping things casual, then why is he acting otherwise? Tensions reach their peak and Ewan is forced to face the consequences of the arrangement.

Day or night, Ewan will answer your call. 

Even when you seem overly irate at him, greeting him with, “Ewan, what the fuck was that picture?”

He exhales haughtily, your tone almost bringing him some twisted sense of pleasure. Like a ‘this is what you get’ type of reaction. Was he 7 or 27? He’s been labeled sensitive before, but right now, he can’t muster the energy to care.

“Hello to you too, darling,” he says, smoke billowing out of his lips as he lounges on his apartment balcony in London. He had convinced himself that his worries about you and Matt vanished the moment he reaffirmed you as his to the world. In this day and age, in your profession, that can easily be accomplished by something called a hard launch. The first image he posted was supposed to do just that, but the internet has a fickle memory. 

Several months had passed with nothing concrete circulating about you and Ewan, leading fans to readily accept the possibility that you were now dating Matt, prompted by the recent Deuxmoi feature. Granted, Ewan was spotted sneaking out of your building once, but what does that really prove?

Unfortunately, some others spun the story beyond recognition, protected by the anonymity afforded by their black mirrors. Aided with nothing but conjecture, they took it upon themselves to accuse you of infidelity. 

All in all, it had been an eventful 24 hours. His impulsive act of possessiveness quickly turned into a mutable gossip headline.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you reply immediately. “Why would you post that? I didn’t even know you took it in the first place.”

“I was doing you a favour. Don’t you see? People are under the impression that we’re still together.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Darling, you know it matters. It’s not a good look that you were spotted with someone else, you know what people are like,” he said. 

“Oh, thank you so much for saving me from public ridicule, Ewan,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Since when do you care about what people say? You stay offline for this exact reason.”

“I know some mean things were being said about you.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you insist, but you no longer sound sure.

“I’m doing you a favour,” he says. “If that picture remains, then it’s basically a ‘fuck you’ to all the people who accuse you cheating on me.”

“How can I cheat on you, Ewan? We’re not together.”

He bristles at that statement, the truth that sits unpleasant in the back of his mind. It hurts that you’re right. “You know what I mean,” he musters. 

He hears nothing for a while, save for some shuffling in the background. Are you screaming your frustrations into your pillow? Is your fist raised at the skies, cursing his name? Tell him you hate him, and he will crumble. The three words will come out of him unrestrained. I love you, followed by, please don’t leave me. 

But they already have spilled out of him, lost among his tearful pleas in the car. That night in September, he crumbled and he lost you anyway. What good would it do now? What difference would it make?

You finally speak, and he hears the frustration in your voice, even as it softens, “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

He can’t help but chuckle, the sound low and easy, “Hey, baby, you’re the one who called me.”

But your next words wipe the smile right off his face. “Ewan… this isn’t going to be the last of it. Sooner or later, we’ll have to make it known that we’re not as in love as everyone thinks.”

He frowns, not accepting that you’re pressing on the topic. “Why?”

“Your memory must be so twisted, Ewan,” you sigh, and he can picture you shaking your head, “Don’t you have that ironclad PR arrangement for your new film?”

His chest tightens. Leave it to you to be the bearer of harsh truths. “That… That might not happen.”

“Might not? Oh, for fuck’s sake, you didn’t quit, did you?”

“No, I didn’t quit,” he answers quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “But can we not talk about the film? It’s not what matters right now.”

“But it does, Ewan,” you insist, the concern in your voice gnawing at him, “you’ve got this important thing, and I… what if I want out? What if I want something real?”

“Something… real.” It's like a punch to his gut, nightmare fuel, and he scrambles for a response. “Like what?”

“I don’t know… I just – ”

“This isn’t real enough for you?” There is no hiding the vulnerability in his voice now. It wouldn’t even work if he tried. “I… I’m not…”

“Ewan.”

You refuse to answer his question, and he thinks it’s for the best. He responds with his usual, “Darling.”

“What are you going to do about that picture?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” he finally decides. 

“What?”

“I’ll get rid of it.”

“Okay. Good.” He can hear the relief in your voice, but he’s not done yet. 

“But you can’t get rid of us,” he says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. “I won’t let you.”

You groan, “Ewan… ”

His reply is curt, daring you to disagree, “Darling.”

He’s met with a long and uncomfortable silence, the air thick with everything left unsaid. He needs to break it. He needs a diversion. “Are you home?” he asks.

“Why?”

Even over the line, he can feel you pulling away, like your tether to him is loosening. He can’t let that happen again. “Are you still angry with me?”

“Why?”

“Why don’t I come over and we can hash it out?” His voice drops into that rhythm, the one he knows you couldn’t resist. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe so,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips, “but I want you.”

He waits with bated breath, ready to run out the door at your word.

“I can’t believe you, Mitchell,” you sigh, your amusement at him bleeding through. It’s all he needs.

“See you soon, darling.”

All throughout the night, he doesn’t let you go. The moment he steps through your door, the tension from the call dissolves into something more primal, something neither of you can resist. Every touch feels like a desperate attempt to hold onto a love that might slip away, even if just for a moment.

Deep down, he knows, just as you do, that this can’t last. But as the night stretches on and he holds you close, he pushes that thought away, burying it in the recesses of his mind. 

This is enough, even for now. 

And so the song remains the same.

Clad in full costume, you tread the halls of the set, your posture noticeably straighter. Alyna’s attire has a way of transforming you, making each step purposeful, each glance sharp. The familiar weight of the prop weapons at your side makes you feel like a true fighter. 

The Watford studio is buzzing with energy as the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot unfolds, the set alive with activity. It is one of the actual sets used for the show, so you feel right at home - Alyna Rivers in her natural habitat. 

You weave through the crowd, careful to avoid Ewan, whose presence you can never shake off. You’ve never actually been together, in a big group setting such as this, since the beginning of the arrangement. The cast definitely knows something is going on, especially after Ewan’s last daring post on Instagram. Ewan hadn’t deleted the post – he simply deactivated his profile instead. You noticed it the next day when you tried to check, only to find his account gone.

The realisation left you conflicted. On one hand, it meant the picture wasn’t out there anymore. But on the other, it felt like a temporary fix, a way of avoiding the real issue rather than confronting it head-on. It was a pause, not an ending. The post still existed technically, suspended in some middle realm. 

Since the cast is not privy to the sordid details of your arrangement, you think it best to keep interactions with him at a minimum. It had been constantly nagging at you, the thought of being with him but not really. Are you even allowed to hold his hand in front of your friends? Won’t that be crossing the line, breaking the rules that he set when he promised that, you won’t be his and he won’t be yours?

Alyna would never, not in a hundred years, allow herself to be put in this position. Especially not by Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

Just as you start to relax, Matt materialises by your side, a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the fiercest bastard in the realm,” Matt says, looking every bit as Daemon with his Targaryen blacks and silver-blonde wig, giving you an exaggerated once-over. “Looking for your next conquest?”

“Careful, Matthew,” you shoot back, smirking. “Alyna’s got a list, and you’re edging pretty close to the top.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind, and as a top priority, nonetheless,” he teases, nudging you playfully. “But let’s be real, you’d miss me too much.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Miss your terrible jokes, maybe.”

“You love my humour,” he insists. “I’m just saying, when you get tired of shooting arrows and swinging swords, let me know. I would like to take you out into the real world.”

You raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating up. He caught you off guard, so thank the gods for the sheer boldness that Alyna wears like skin, rubbing off on you as you stand in her shoes. “Is Daemon asking Alyna on a date, Smithy?”

“Depends,” he quips, a sly grin on his face. “Is it working?”

Before you can respond, Tom saunters over, clearly not one to miss out on the fun. “What’s this I hear? Matt finally working up the nerve to ask his on-screen sidekick out? Either I’m going mad or my five espresso shots are working.”

“Watch it, you,” you warn him playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Alyna’s still got some arrows left. And I’m not his sidekick.”

Tom smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re all talk.”

“Want to test that theory?” you challenge, raising an imaginary bow. Matt lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest as if struck.

“See? Deadly,” Matt says, winking at you. “So, what do you say? Coffee, next week? Somewhere far from dragons and politicking?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad. As long as you promise not to reenact your last attempt at flirting.”

“Ouch,” Matt laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll do my best.”

As the photographer calls for everyone to take their places, you catch a glimpse of Ewan watching from a distance, his jaw clenched. The amusement in Matt’s eyes tells you he’s noticed too.

“You’re playing with fire, you know,” you whisper to Matt as you walk toward the set.

He grins, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t called the Rogue Prince for no reason. Besides, I am the blood of the dragon.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, but you are unable to ignore the thrill of Ewan’s intense focus. 

The set buzzes with activity, cast members instructed to maintain their character’s demeanour for the photographs. The Greens go first, with their designated groupings, with Ewan and Gayle sharing a close-up shot. From where you stand behind the cameras, you can feel Ewan’s gaze locked on you, his presence heavy and distracting. After a while, you feel the need to step away, walking further to the side. 

He remains silent, his focus clearly split between you and Matt, who keeps up a steady stream of clever remarks that make you laugh. Each one seems to darken Ewan’s mood further. The tension becomes so palpable that the director finally calls out, “Ewan, can we get your attention over here, please? You’re off your mark.”

Liv and Phia, still awaiting their cues, scurry over to where you stand. Liv leans in with a knowing smirk on her face, whispering in your ear. “Trouble in paradise?” Of course they’ve noticed Ewan’s odd behaviour. 

“More like purgatory,” Phia quips, scrunching her nose.

“Something like that,” you murmur, eyes flicking over to Ewan, who’s now talking with Gayle and the director, looking over the shots taken, though his attention doesn’t stray far from you.

“Well, if you need an escape route, just say the word,” Liv offers, her voice full of concern.

“Do you want me to stare back at Ewan?” Matt cheekily offers, making you punch him on the shoulder. He only laughs openly, the sound free and uninhibited and just Matt. 

“Thanks, guys,” you say, grateful for their friendship. But you know there’s no easy way out of this tangled mess. Not with the way Ewan is watching you and Matt like he’s one step away from bringing The Battle Above The Gods Eye to fruition.

Not long after, it’s time for the Blacks to step onto the set. As you move into position, you can feel Ewan’s gaze practically searing into your back. You fight the urge to laugh. Or grimace. Or shoot him a questioning look. The idea of Ewan in his full Aemond costume brooding over you is something indeed. The fangirl in you would have been sent reeling, if only he wasn’t so fucking infuriating. 

You spot Liv, Tom, and Phia swooping in like a rescue squad with a mission to derail Ewan’s brooding. Phia, ever the animated theater kid, practically throws herself in front of Ewan, waving her hands like she’s recounting the world’s most thrilling tale.

“Ewan, did you catch that last shot of Helaena? Absolute perfection,” she says, grinning.

Tom saunters up, “Care to explain why you are standing here lurking like some stalker? You’re scaring the crew, mate.”

Phia gently nudges Ewan away from your line of sight. “Come on, Ewan. Let’s go for a smoke, it’s stuffy in here.”

Ewan’s clearly torn, but he’s powerless against his friends’ instigation. You bite back a laugh as you see him getting pulled in every direction. Your makeshift rescue team really needs to get their act together, but you love them anyway. The camera snaps away, and you focus on your poses. Knowing that Phia and the gang are running interference, you’re free to enjoy the moment and be Alyna as the photoshoot demands. You can save the enjoyment from watching him squirm later. 

The photoshoot wraps up in the evening and everyone begins to gather their things, preparing to leave. Cast members chat, stretch, and discuss plans for the week.

“So, coffee next week?” Matt asks again, this time with a bit more seriousness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll see what I have scheduled then I’ll give you a call.”

“Great. I’ll even let you pick the place. Well, I’ll be off, love, I’m meeting my sister.” he says. Then, as if sensing something, he leans in closer. “But I’d better give you something to remember me by.”

Before you can react, Matt pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you warmly. The embrace lingers just a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he plants a soft, teasing kiss on your cheek. You catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. What is he up to?

As Matt releases you and heads out of the studio, you spot Ewan coming toward you, his presence all too familiar. He doesn’t say anything at first, and just stands there, his silence more charged than anything he could have spoken. His expression is stoic, but with the way his lips are pursed and his nostrils are flared, you would say that he’s bothered. He’s jealous.

“You seemed to be having fun,” he finally says, his tone casual, though the tension is unmistakable.

“Mmm, maybe I was,” you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. “Is there a problem?”

Ewan’s eyes narrow slightly, but he shakes his head. “Not at all. Just… nevermind. I’m sure you know, we’ve been booked for a magazine feature coming up in a few days.”

You freeze. “Yeah, I heard. What about it?”

“I’m just making sure that you’re okay with it, darling.”

“It’s work, Ewan,” you reply tersely. “We’ll deal with it.”

The tension breaks when Fabien swoops in, his flawless smile in place. “So, you’re stealing Matt away from me now?” he teases, and there’s an edge to his question. He’s still on the fence about you and Ewan, as he feels protective of his friend. But he’s aware that there’s no simple right or wrong here. You both hurt each other; that much is clear. 

“Maybe,” you quip back, shrugging with feigned innocence. “He seems to like my company.”

Fabien laughs, though there’s a hint of something serious beneath it. “I’ll allow it – this time. But don’t forget, I’ve got dibs on him for the next round of drinks.”

As Fabien’s laughter fades, Ewan’s voice cuts through the lightheartedness. “I don’t think she needs your protection, Fabien.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, rolling your eyes. “I don’t need looking after, Ewan.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice dropping to something darker. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop.”

There’s a challenge in his words, one that sends a thrill of anticipation through you, even as you know it’s a dangerous game you’re all playing. The fire between you smoulders, waiting for the next spark to ignite it. Is Matt that spark? No, you realise, both your actions will be enough to bring everything crashing down.

For now, you step away, leaving Ewan to stew in his misguided jealousy. 

“See you around, Fabs,” you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you for our shoot, yeah?” you tell Ewan, making it clear that you’re not up for another dalliance in between. 

He gets the hint, nodding tersely. But he doesn’t just let you go, not without making his mark, the thing he ached so badly to do in front of Matt, but couldn’t. 

He briefly casts a glance around the room to make sure no one else is hovering, then presses a soft against your lips, leaving you no time to protest. 

You’re exhausted. You’re frustrated. You shouldn’t give in to this, but you do. He feels right; he feels like home. 

If home is a Motel 6 along the highway, ready to kick you out at a moment’s notice. Isn’t that just a knife in the gut?

You pull away after a second, and he smiles, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek.

Fabien shakes his head, a feeling of warmth rising within him at the sight of his two friends who clearly belong together. If only they would get their heads out of their asses.

You seem to remember his presence, pushing away from Ewan’s hold.

Fabien can only roll his eyes. 

Only two days later, and you’re back to work once more. The British Vogue photoshoot has its focus on high fashion, set against the backdrop of an American West-inspired ranch. It doesn’t dwell on you and Ewan as celebrity figures, which is why you agreed to the shoot in the first place. 

Walking onto set, you’re struck with awe at the dramatic tableau of worn wooden fences, hay bales, and lasso props. But your amazement reaches its absolute peak when Ewan emerges, in full cowboy attire. 

Fuck. You bite your lip, and you can almost hear your heart pounding. Unbeknownst to you, the crew notices your flustered state, but they think it’s just you admiring your boyfriend as expected. 

He meets your eyes from across the room, then saunters over to you, that characteristic smirk set on his lips. Your breath catches in your throat, when he tips his hat and greets, “Howdy, darling.”

“Why, hello, good sir,” you try to match his tone, giving a playful curtsy. 

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, and you’re sure if he’s referring to the photoshoot or the possibility that the two of you might have to play at being a couple as these people expect. You opt to believe the former. 

As the shoot progresses, the tension between you and Ewan becomes almost unbearable. You’re clad in an elaborate, haute couture cowgirl outfit. A sculptural corset made of brown leather, with a tailored vest on top. A floor-length skirt with a high slit reaching your upper thigh, dyed to a rich gradient of burnt sienna. Knee-high heeled boots. A leather choker with a central silver pendant rests on your neck, dangling provocatively. 

For the first set of shots, both of you casually lean against the fence. Ewan poses beside you, watching you with an intensity that is both electrifying and maddening. His gaze is hungry, almost predatory, and you almost forget about the elaborate set around you. Thankfully, each blinding flash of the camera pulls you back into the real world. Keeping you from riding a cowboy right down on the hay bales. How does the saying go? Save a horse…

The photographer snaps you out of it, as he shouts a direction for you to pose solo with a lasso draped over your shoulder. Ewan steps out of the frame, leaning against a wooden post, his eyes locked on you as if he’s trying to memorise every detail of this look. 

“Alright, let’s try a more dramatic pose,” the photographer instructs. “Maybe something with a bit more attitude.”

You adjust your stance, twisting slightly to emphasise the curve of your waist. As you do, you momentarily meet Ewan’s gaze. His eyes are dark with something like desire, and his lips are set in a grim line. 

“I can’t even articulate what you’re doing to me, darling,” Ewan murmurs in your ear, when the photographer calls for a 5-minute break. Set assistants run onto the scene, adding and rearranging props for the next round of shots.

You smirk, “Speak for yourself, Mitchell.”

“Mmm,” he hums, satisfied. 

The next shot calls for Ewan to stand behind you, his arms wrapped around your figure, the position as intimate as can be. Each click of the camera seems to heighten the tension.

His breath is warm against your neck, the sheer proximity electrifying, causing your entire body to heat up underneath the layers of leather and cotton. His heartbeat matches yours, quick and erratic. His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible over the camera clicks. “You’re making this incredibly difficult, you know.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Difficult how, exactly?”

“Keeping my hands off you is the hardest part of my day,” he replies, his voice husky with restrained desire. “It’s like you’re daring me to break every rule we’ve set.”

That you’ve set, you want to correct him, but you bite your tongue. A bitter chuckle escapes you, the sound a mix of frustration and amusement. “So what if I am,” you tease, bending back slightly into his embrace, feeling his body heat against yours. He welcomes your closeness, leaning into you. 

For the next few minutes, it’s a game of seduction and denial, every movement aimed at tormenting the other. The crew, blissfully unaware of the full extent of the tension, is generally pleased about the atmosphere of the shoot. In their minds, you and Ewan are simply leaning into your real-life chemistry and romance.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Little do they know.

In the brightly lit break room, the hum of distant chatter from the set fills the silence between you and Ewan. He’s seated across from you, his gaze unyielding as you check your phone.

His voice breaks the quiet, his tone deceptively casual but laced with curiosity. “Doing anything tomorrow?”

You look up, meeting his eyes, before tentatively answering. “Actually, yes.”

His brows lift, his curiosity piqued. “Care to elaborate, darling?”

You shift in your seat, trying to mask the tension in your voice. “I’m supposed to grab coffee with Matt.”

“Matt.” Ewan’s voice is low as he repeats the familiar name. “Just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause, his expression morphing from curiosity to something more intense. “Is it… is it a date?”

“I think that was implied,” you reply, your tone deliberately nonchalant as you try to maintain control of the conversation.

“Really.” His voice tightens, his response loaded with a mix of disbelief and frustration.

You notice the obvious shift in his demeanour, the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. “Why the long face?”

Ewan’s hands ball into fists on the table, his composure breaking. “Fuck, I—”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, your own frustration simmering. “Forget it. Don’t answer that.”

“No, just…” His voice falters, his emotions raw. “I don’t want you to go.”

You blink, taken aback by his admission. “Are you being serious right now, Mitchell?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Ewan’s eyes lock onto yours, filled with a mix of hurt and possessiveness. A concoction borne out of circumstances of his own making. Or had it been you, last September? You can no longer keep track of whose fault reigns over everything. The truth of the matter is, you love him. Of course you do.

But nothing feels right anymore. 

“I don’t know,” you retort, your voice rising slightly, “I hope you are. Because you can’t just say that to me.”

“But I am.” His tone is resigned but unwavering. “I don’t want to watch you with someone else.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water, freezing you in place. “Then I’m ignoring what you just said. This isn’t fair to me.”

His face falls. “You can’t just ignore it. It’s not that simple.”

You stand up abruptly, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Well, I don’t see how this conversation is going to help anything.”

He stands as well, his expression pained and conflicted. “I just – damn it. Wait a minute, darling – ”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Look, if you’re going to act like this, then maybe we need to rethink – ”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice desperate. “I don’t want to rethink anything. I just… I need you to understand that this isn’t easy for me.”

The room falls silent, both of you breathing heavily. The unresolved problem lingers, the weight of it all hanging heavily between you. 

You take a final look at him, feeling a mixture of anger and longing. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk out of the break room, the doors closing sharply behind you. Ewan is left alone, frustration clear on his face as he stares at the empty space where you once stood.

Ewan is sprawled on his couch, a half-empty bottle of beer resting on the coffee table. The warm light of a lamp casts a muted glow over his apartment, which is littered with the remnants of his evening alone. He has seen the latest headlines about you and Matt, enjoying a date in Hyde Park.

Hyde Park Outing: Is it Love in the Air for these HBO Actors?

He tries to ignore them all, but the nagging bitterness won’t let him be. The images and headlines keep flashing in his mind. Unable to shake the frustration, he sends a quick message to Tom and Phia, inviting them over for a casual distraction.

A short while later, they arrive, carrying a six-pack and a box of takeout. Ewan greets them with a tired smile, which barely masks his despondence.

“Evening,” he says, opening the door wider to let them in. “Glad you could make it.”

Phia gives him a sympathetic look as she steps inside, setting down the food. “We came prepared. Looks like you could use a break.”

Tom follows, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. “And some beers. We figured you might need them.”

Ewan leads them to the living room, where they settle onto the couch. As they crack open the beers and start munching away, the initial wariness fades, replaced by casual conversation. His two guests are careful not to broach the topic of you, but they know it’s inevitable. Soon enough, it will be time to get down to business, which is essentially what they came for. They’re the rescue squad after all. 

“So… we have a feeling we know what’s been eating at you,” Tom says, taking a swig of his beer. “We saw the headlines, mate. Don’t even deny it. It’s gotta be rough.”

Ewan grimaces, his hand gripping the bottle a little tighter. “Yeah, the headlines. they’re , uhhhh … oh, what does it even matter?”

Phia raises an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Come on, kid. It matters. You can talk to us. We weren’t cast as siblings for no reason.”

Ewan lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “We have this thing, this casual thing. But seeing her with someone else... it’s like a punch to the gut.”

Tom nods sympathetically. “I get it. I’m sure it was fun at first, but – ” 

Phia’s concern wins over her, leading her to interject, “Ewan, maybe you need to bloody talk to her. Figure out where you both stand.”

Ewan shakes his head, though his expression softens, and his unmistakable vulnerability shines through. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to see where that leads.”

Phia reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Ask her why she ended things last year.”

“I know why – ”

“Just… ask her again? You might find out more than you expect.”

Tom waits a beat before butting in with a light-hearted chuckle, “It’s better than letting it fester. At least you’ll know where you stand. You owe her that much.”

Ewan huffs out a laugh, the bitterness in his voice giving way to reluctant amusement. “Maybe. I just don’t want to make things worse.”

“Mate,” Tom shakes his shoulder, “look at the state of things. How in the bloody hell can you make it even worse? I don’t think it’s possible.”

Phia just smirks at his boldness, but she agrees, nodding to Ewan, “He’s right, you know.”

Tom raises his beer in a mock toast. “To Aemond and Alyna.”

“Oh, you absolute rascal,” Phia laughs in disbelief. 

But they all clink their bottles together, the gesture a small comfort amidst the confusion. The evening winds down after an hour, and after they depart, Ewan’s mind is still consumed with thought.

Day or night, you will answer Ewan’s call.

“Hello?” your voice patches through after a few rings.

“Darling,” he says, “I think we need to talk.”

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I did have Matt and the reader's date written out, but I thought it seemed superfluous for this one. Maybe in a bonus chapter?

In the next one: 'THE talk', Ewan dealing with stuff for his film, whippets, interviews, MORE headlines... will they finally resolve everything?

Also, if yous want, I can give a glimpse on what would have happened if Matt got the BV shoot instead :)

The end isn't even within reach. More angst to follow. How can there be more, you ask? Let's hash it out below 😉💙

[julietsf1]

Push & Pull - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: Y/N has always kept Franco at a distance, teasing and confident that he’d never give up on her. But when he suddenly pulls away, she can’t stop thinking about him, realizing she might care more than she’s let on. Could it be that he’s been waiting for her to figure it out all along? (6k words)

Warnings: None

AN: Another one for all you hotties! If any Argentinians read this pls recommend me some things to do in Buenos Aires!! I'm visiting next month ^-^ ciao

__________________________________________

The sun hung high over the paddock, its warmth beating down on the sea of activity buzzing between the garages. I walked beside Lando, who is both my best friend in the entire world but also my worst nightmare as his PR rep. I adored him, though. Lando, as usual, was in the middle of an overly dramatic retelling of his latest training session.

But today, I wasn’t paying much attention. My focus kept drifting—not so subtly—toward someone else entirely.

“You know,” Lando said, waving his hand, helmet tucked under his arm, “if you’re hoping for another one of Franco’s smirks, maybe just walk up and wave a banner next time. Save us both the suspense. I mean, you’ve already pulled the ‘hot dress’ stunt last week.”

I flicked my eyes to the right. There he was, standing outside the Williams home, laughing with one of his engineers, completely oblivious to my presence. Green eyes and a beaming smile that could undo me with a single glance.

Lando snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Hello? Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, something about banners or your genius or something,” I muttered, my gaze still lingering on Franco.

Lando shook his head, grinning. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Lando smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, you’ve been sneaking looks the Williams motorhome since we left the garage. Just admit it. You are definitly not staring at James Vowels over there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed, adjusting my sunglasses with forced nonchalance. “I’m just people-watching.”

“Right,” Lando said with a deadpan expression, “because there’s nothing more captivating than Franco ‘green eyes and a fluffy hair’ Colapinto.”

My lips quirked up despite myself, but before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the paddock noise.

“Y/N! Looking for me?”

Franco’s voice carried over the chatter, as smooth and confident as ever. He strolled up with his usual big smile, and despite my best efforts, I felt my pulse quicken.

“Looking for you?” I raised an eyebrow, keeping my tone cool. “Why would I be looking for you?”

Franco grinned, leaning in just enough to make my heart skip. “Because you always do. Can’t resist me.”

Lando snorted loudly, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at both of them. “Pretty sure I’m here for work, Franco,” I said dryly, crossing my arms. “Not to boost your ego.”

“Work?” Franco chuckled, throwing a quick glance at Lando. “Well, if that’s what it takes to finally get some one-on-one time with you, I could use a good publicist.”

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “You mean someone to clean up all the damage you do in your interviews?”

“Something like that maybe,” Franco replied, his grin widening. He leaned in slightly more, his voice lowering a bit. “But if you’re up for it, I bet we could give them something that'll really make headlines, hermosa.”

My heart skipped—he had a way of doing that. Always flirting, always smooth. I could feel Lando’s eyes practically burning holes into the side of my head, waiting for my reaction.

“Bye, Colapinto,” I teased back, tilting my head slightly. “We’re on our way to Alex. Don’t you have to focus on your practice session or something?”

Lando let out a soft, exaggerated “Ouch!” behind me.

"Point taken," Franco chuckled softly. "But don’t worry, hermosa, I’m always around when you need me."

I raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze for a moment longer before shrugging. “Of course you are.”

And just like that, I turned away, flashing a brief, teasing smile before walking straight toward Alex, who was conveniently nearby. I could practically feel Franco’s eyes on me, the way his playful mood shifted just slightly at the sight of me talking to his teammate instead of him.

Lando fell in step beside me, clearly enjoying every second of the interaction. “Wow. Just… wow. You’ve got the poor guy on the ropes, and you’re still playing it cool.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my tone casual but a little too pleased with myself.

“Oh, come on,” Lando scoffed. “He is looking at you the way I look at capri suns while you barely even looked at him when he flirted with you. And now you’re talking to Alex? Cold-blooded.”

I shot him a side glance. “I came here to arrange a damage control golf session for you, Lando. I’m not playing any games.”

“Yeah sure,” Lando said, raising an eyebrow. “You have Alex’s number; you could just text about that. I think you needed your daily dose of Franco this morning.”

I just smiled and waved it off. “It’s just a small bonus.”

“You know, you keep this up, and Franco might actually grow a spine and stop chasing you. Then what?”

“Then I’ll cross that bridge when I get there,” I replied smoothly.

Lando shook his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying, even for me, it’s confusing whether you actually want him or not. Can’t imagine what is going on in his head.”

I glanced back over my shoulder at Franco, who was now back with his engineer, though his eyes lingered in my direction for just a second too long. I turned back to Lando, my smirk still firmly in place.

..

The post-qualifying buzz was winding down, but I was just getting started. There was just something undeniably fun about watching Franco get wound up, especially when I knew exactly how to push his buttons. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since our earlier exchange, and that gave me all the more reason to turn up the heat.

Oscar was standing near the garage, chatting with a couple of engineers, looking completely unbothered by anything that wasn’t race-related. The perfect opportunity.

With a casual smile, I sauntered over, making sure every move was within Franco’s line of sight. I could feel his gaze burning into me, that sharp, undeniable tension building the closer I got to Oscar.

“Hey, Oscar!” I called, stepping up beside him, all friendly charm and bright smiles. “Great qualifying today. P3, right?”

Oscar chuckled, completely unaware of the storm brewing a few garages down. “Yeah, just behind Lando. He hasn’t stopped reminding me.” He rolled his eyes. “But I’ll get him back tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I said, leaning in just enough to make it look a little too friendly. “But you did great out there. Don’t let Lando’s big mouth get to you.”

Oscar smiled, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Thanks, Y/N. Means a lot.”

I could feel Franco’s attention prickling at the back of my neck, like a live wire sparking just out of sight. He wasn’t making a scene—yet—but I knew him well enough to know that the longer I kept this up, the more he’d unravel.

Oscar, bless him, remained blissfully unaware as I laughed at something he said, placing a hand lightly on his arm. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even notice the deliberate touch, but I knew Franco did. I didn’t need to look over to know that his jaw was probably clenched, his hands likely fisted at his sides, trying and failing to keep his cool.

“Really, Y/N?” Lando’s voice broke through, his tone dripping with amusement as he strolled up beside me. “Oscar? That’s your move?”

I blinked innocently at him. “What? We’re just having a nice chat.”

Lando shot me a knowing look. “Talk to him, sure. But, come on, this is hardly subtle.”

Oscar frowned, clearly confused. “Wait, what am I missing?”

Lando smirked, crossing his arms as he glanced toward Franco’s garage. “Only the fact that you’re a pawn in Y/N’s little game. Poor Franco looks like he’s about to storm over here any second now.”

Oscar blinked. “Franco? Why would—” He glanced in Franco’s direction, then back at me, the realization slowly dawning. “Oh. I see.”

I shrugged, still smiling. “Lando’s being dramatic, as usual.”

Lando snorted. “Am I? Because if looks could kill, Franco would’ve turned you both into toast about five minutes ago.”

Oscar looked between us, still processing what was happening. “You are not setting me up for some weird beef with Franco, right?”

I patted Oscar’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. You’re just an innocent bystander.”

Oscar, ever the polite one, chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, right. Well, I should probably get going. See you guys later.”

As soon as Oscar made his hasty retreat, Lando turned to me, a wicked grin on his face. “You are cruel. I mean, Franco’s been flirting with you for weeks, and now you’re just… torturing the poor guy.”

“I’m not torturing him,” I replied, though my smile betrayed my amusement. “He’s fine.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You sure about that? He’s got the look of someone who just found out his favorite show’s been canceled.”

I shot a glance toward Franco, and sure enough, he was standing just a little too still, his jaw clenched as he glared in our direction. A thrill shot through me—he was unraveling, just like I knew he would.

“He’ll get over it,” I said, my tone light but full of mischief.

Lando sighed, leaning in with a grin. “Keep this up and Franco’s going to start writing poetry. You might want to give him a break before it gets tragic.”

My smirk grew, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—a thrill, yes, but also a dangerous kind of enjoyment. I liked knowing I had this power over him, but at the same time, I wondered just how far I could push him before he finally snapped.

“You know, one of these days, it’s gonna get messy,” Lando teased, clearly enjoying the drama. “And when it does, I hope you’re ready.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t stop the tiny pang of anticipation that flared up at Lando’s words. “I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words,” Lando quipped, casting another glance at Franco. “Seriously though, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this wound up. You’re going to need more than a PR damage control strategy when this all blows up.”

I stole one last look at Franco, who was now pretending to be engrossed in a conversation with his engineer, though his eyes kept darting over to me. The tension between us was palpable, and for a second, I felt the heat of it settle in my chest.

“It will be fine, Lando! Stop stressing so much,” I said confidently, though his warning echoed in the back of my mind.

Lando just laughed. “If you say so. But I’m getting front-row seats when it happens.”

..

The hotel lobby was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over the elegant space. I strolled in, mentally exhausted from a day of media meetings, ready to unwind. The plush chairs and quiet ambiance promised me some much-needed relaxation.

But of course, things never went as planned when Franco was around.

I spotted him instantly, leaning casually against the reception desk, chatting with a hotel staff member. The way his eyes lit up when they landed on me was unmistakable—like I was exactly what he had been waiting for.

“Y/N,” Franco called out, his voice smooth and rich as he broke into a wide grin. He abandoned the conversation with the staff member and headed straight for me, the playful glint in his eyes making my stomach flip. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Franco,” I greeted, letting my lips curve into a small smile. “You really do seem to be everywhere these days.”

“Can you really blame me?” Franco said with a playful grin, moving closer, his presence radiating that effortless charm that always set my pulse racing, his eyes trailing up and down, taking me in. “I tend to gravitate toward the best things in life.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” Franco corrected with a wink. “Have you eaten yet?”

The question hung in the air for a beat, and I could see the flicker of hope in his eyes. He was practically handing me the opportunity to push him a bit again.

“No, no dinner,” I answered slowly, watching as his grin widened.

“Perfect,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “What do you say we fix that? There’s this incredible little spot nearby—quiet, cozy, great steak. I could use the company.” He paused, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping a little. “Especially your company.”

I raised an eyebrow, biting back the urge to laugh at how effortlessly flirty he always was. He was good, I had to admit that. But I wasn’t about to make it that easy for him. Where’s the fun in that?

“Oh?” I said, feigning interest, though I knew exactly how I’d respond. “That sounds tempting.”

Franco’s grin grew, and he took another step closer, his hand resting on the back of a chair near us, bringing him even more into my personal space. “Most definitely. You, me, good food, and a quiet night… what’s not to like?”

I tilted my head, letting my gaze linger on him for a moment before replying. “Mmm, I don’t know, Franco. It’s been a long day. I might just head to bed.”

Franco’s expression faltered, but only for a second. He recovered quickly, his smirk never quite leaving. “We’ll keep it simple. No grand gestures, no expectations—just good food and a little company.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “I promise I’ll behave.”

I laughed softly, the sound teasing. “You? Behave? I find that hard to believe.”

Franco’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can be on my best behavior... if the moment calls for it.”

I gave him a slow, appraising look, letting the tension build between us. I could see the way his eyes darkened, the slight shift in his posture as he waited for my answer.

“Well,” I drawled, my voice teasing as I leaned back against the wall, “maybe another time.”

Franco’s smile fell slightly. “Another time?”

I nodded, the corners of my lips curling up as I played with him. “Yeah. I mean, you make a good offer, Franco. But I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep.”

Franco tried to keep his cool, but I could see the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

“Beauty sleep?” he asked, his voice still carrying that flirty tone, though it was softer now. “You don’t need any of that.”

I smirked, letting my gaze flick up and down him for a brief moment. “Loving the flattery, though.”

“So, dinner tomorrow maybe?” he asked again, hopeful.

My smile turned more teasing as I gently patted his arm. “Another time.”

Franco’s smirk faltered, and he ran a hand through his hair, his confidence slipping just slightly. “You’re killing me, Y/N.”

“Not yet,” I replied, my tone light but filled with playful challenge.

Franco chuckled, though it was clear he was a little defeated. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

“Do I?” I teased, tilting my head playfully. “Goodnight, Franco.”

He watched me go, standing there in the lobby, a little defeated but still holding onto that spark of hope I’d dangled in front of him. I didn’t look back, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire way to the elevator.

As I rode up to my room, the thrill of our back-and-forth lingered. Seeing him lose his mind over me was fun—really fun—but there was something about tonight that felt different. Hurt eyes that lingered just a bit too long. Maybe I was taking it too far.

..

The next day had been a whirlwind of post-qualifying interviews and pre-race prep, but none of it could distract me from the change in Franco’s behavior. After last night’s playful banter at the hotel, I expected him to keep up the chase. But today, something was different.

No looks, no comments, nothing.

And worst of all? He was very publicly flirting with someone else. Right in the middle of the paddock.

And not just anyone—a stunning blonde journalist with a smile too bright and a laugh that seemed to come far too easily. It wasn’t the harmless banter I was used to seeing from him. No, this was something different. He was invested, leaning in close, saying something that made the blonde practically cling to his every word.

Irritation flared in me, but I did my best to mask it.

“You’re being weird,” Lando remarked, raising his eyebrows as he caught me staring across the road of the McLaren motorhome. “Did you swallow a lemon or something?”

“I’m not being weird,” I snapped, a little too quickly, my eyes still fixed on Franco as he threw his head back, laughing at something the journalist said. “He’s… being weird.”

Lando followed my gaze, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Ah, I see. You’re not used to this, are you?”

“Used to what?” I tried to play it cool but was failing miserably.

Lando laughed. “Used to him not obsessing over your every move.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please, I really do not care.”

“I called it.” Lando smirked, leaning against the wall, clearly enjoying himself. “Looks like Franco’s finally had enough of your games.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. Sick of chasing after me? That couldn’t be it. Franco had always flirted with me, always seemed like he enjoyed our interactions as much as I did. And now? Now he was acting like I didn’t exist. Not even a glance in my direction.

I crossed my arms, trying to maintain an air of indifference, but Lando could see right through it. “He cannot be sick of me.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, darling, but it looks like he’s pretty content chatting up Blondie over there.”

I gritted my teeth. “He’s just being polite.”

“Uh-huh,” Lando said, the grin never leaving his face. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

I stole another glance toward Franco, who was now laughing again at something else the blonde said, his hand resting on the bar beside her. The ease of it, the fact that he wasn’t sparing me even a glance, gnawed at me.

Lando chuckled. “Wow. Easy there, tiger. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I snapped, my frustration bubbling to the surface.

“So worked up and jealous,” Lando said with a shrug. “He’s just having a good chat with the sexy Spanish lady, and you’re over here, practically steaming.”

“I’m not jealous,” I bit out, my voice sharper than I intended.

Lando raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. I haven’t seen you this stressed since I my DM’s leaked last year. If you really care, you might want to do something about this before he completely forgets about you.”

My pulse quickened. Leave it to Lando to offer up some brutal honesty. The idea of Franco actually moving on, of him getting over me, didn’t sit right. Not at all. I had enjoyed the back-and-forth with him, the flirting, the tension. But this? No. This was not good.

“And then there’s the padel match yesterday evening,” Lando added, casually tossing out the words like a grenade.

I blinked, confused. “The what now?”

“Franco,” Lando explained, smiling a bit awkwardly now. “He went on a padel date with that journalist yesterday. It’s all over the paddock.”

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “So what? He can play padel with whoever he wants.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Right. Because you’re totally not bothered by the fact that he’s off playing padel and flirting with someone else.”

“I’m most certainly not,” I shot back, my voice sharper than intended.

Lando laughed, leaning in closer as if he’d just discovered the punchline to his favorite joke. “Oh, you so are. It’s written all over your face.”

I clenched my jaw, glaring at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, sweetie,” Lando said, clearly not buying it. “What is it that they say? You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone or something.”

My eyes flicked back to Franco, and I felt that familiar twinge of irritation. He still hadn’t looked my way. Normally, by now, he’d have come over with one of his cheeky comments, trying to make me smile. But now? He was completely engrossed in his conversation with the journalist, as if I didn’t exist.

“He’s just trying to make me jealous,” I muttered, more to myself than to Lando.

Lando snickered. “I don’t know, Y/N, maybe he’s already over you.”

The comment hit me, and for a moment, my usual confidence wavered. I felt the sting of it—not as a challenge, but as something that didn’t sit right in my chest. Franco moving on? That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Yeah, okay,” I muttered, more to myself than to Lando, my voice not as steady as I would’ve liked. I tried to brush it off, but it still lingered.

Lando noticed the shift in my tone, his smirk softening slightly. “Whoa, I was just messing around. I didn’t mean to—”

I forced a small smile, waving him off. “It’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting that, I guess.” I paused, then shrugged. “Anyway, whatever. He’ll come around. Maybe.”

Lando looked like he was about to say something else, but I was already walking off, my thoughts swirling with what-ifs. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much, but I wasn’t about to dwell on it—not yet.

But the unease lingered.

..

The day hadn’t gone as expected. Franco spent the entire afternoon being... different. Detached, even. Chatting up what felt like all the girls in the paddock, from catering staff to marshals. Especially that blonde journalist. The thought made my stomach twist in a way I wasn’t used to.

I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I needed to talk about this, and who better than the girls?

As I walked into the small café where I was meeting up with Kika and Alexandra, I took a deep breath. The quiet buzz of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, but my mind was far from grounded.

Kika spotted me first, waving me over with a wide grin. “There she is! Come sit, we were just talking about you.”

I slid into the booth, trying to force a smile. “All good things, I hope?”

Alexandra gave me a soft, knowing look, but Kika, ever the lively one, was quick to dive in. “Of course! But you look stressed. Spill.”

I sighed, glancing between the two of them. “It’s... Franco.”

Kika’s eyes lit up immediately, like she’d just been handed a fresh piece of juicy gossip. “Ah, your fanboy. What did he do now?”

“It’s not what he did exactly,” I said, picking at the edge of the menu absentmindedly. “It’s more what he didn’t do.”

Alexandra leaned in slightly, her voice calm and curious. “What do you mean?”

I let out a frustrated breath. “He’s been different. Ever since last night. He asked me to dinner, I played with him a little—kept things flirty, but didn’t say yes. And now, today, he’s... ignoring me. He spent all day flirting with that blonde journalist.”

Kika raised an eyebrow, sitting back with a smirk. “So, you’re saying you miss the attention?”

“No!” I replied quickly, but the doubt in my voice betrayed me. “It’s not that. It’s just... I don’t get why he suddenly doesn’t care. He’s been chasing me for weeks.”

Alexandra gave a small smile, her eyes gentle. “Maybe he’s tired of the chase.”

I frowned, not liking the sound of that at all. “Tired of the chase?”

“Yeah,” Kika chimed in, her tone playful but pointed. “Maybe the poor guy finally got sick of working so hard. He’s been trying and trying, but you’ve been making him run in circles.”

I crossed my arms, feeling more defensive than I liked. “He knew what this was. It’s just... fun.”

Kika snorted. “Fun for who? Hard to get gets exhausting after a while, sweetie.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Alexandra spoke first, her voice soft but firm. “Y/N, maybe it’s more than just a game to him. And from what I’m hearing, maybe it’s more to you too, but you’re not ready to admit that.”

I hesitated, the words striking closer to home than I wanted to admit. I’d always enjoyed the back-and-forth with Franco, the way he chased me, how easy it was to keep him on edge. But today? Today felt different. Seeing him flirt with someone else... it bothered me more than it should.

“You think I actually like him?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual but failing miserably.

Kika grinned, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, sweetie, you don’t just like him. You’re jealous.”

I scowled, pushing my hair back as if the action would help me regain some control. “I’m not jealous.”

“Uh-huh,” Kika teased, leaning forward. “That’s why you’ve been stewing all day.”

Alexandra, ever the caring one, placed a gentle hand on my arm. “It’s okay to admit it. Sometimes, these things sneak up on you.”

I looked between the two of them, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. Had I really let it get this far? Was I jealous? The idea of Franco actually moving on, actually losing interest in me, made my chest tighten in a way that was entirely unfamiliar.

“What do I do?” I finally asked, my voice quieter now, the bravado gone.

Kika’s eyes sparkled with excitement, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “Alright, here’s the plan: tonight, we’re going out, and you’re going to look amazing. We’ll remind Franco exactly why he’s been chasing you all this time. By the end of the night, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

She paused, her grin widening. “Trust me, he’ll forget those other girls even exist.”

Alexandra smiled softly. “Or, you could just talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

Kika waved that suggestion off. “Yeah, we’ll get to that part eventually. First, we make him sweat a little.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Kika’s enthusiasm, but Alexandra’s words lingered. Maybe I did need to talk to him. But not yet. Not until I figured out exactly what I wanted to say—and what I wanted from him.

“Alright,” I said, a new determination settling over me. “Let’s go out tonight.”

Kika grinned like she had just won the lottery. “That’s my girl. Franco won’t know what hit him.”

The thought of seeing Franco’s reaction later sent a thrill through me, but there was something else too—something that was still unresolved, simmering just below the surface. For now, though, I was ready to play this game one last time.

..

Later that evening, the city was alive with music and lights, and I found myself standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the dress Kika had practically forced me into. It was sleek, eye-catching, and made me feel like I owned the night. I had to admit—Kika’s plan to make an impression was already working, and we hadn’t even left the hotel yet.

Kika and Alexandra stood behind me, both beaming with approval.

“Perfect,” Kika declared, crossing her arms with satisfaction. “Franco won’t know what hit him.”

Alexandra smiled softly, leaning against the wall. “You do look stunning, Y/N. But remember—don’t do this just for him. Do it because you feel good.”

I met her eyes in the mirror and gave a small nod. “Yeah, I know.” But there was no denying it—tonight, I wanted Franco to see exactly what he’d been missing. The uncertainty of the day still gnawed at me, but if nothing else, I would remind him who had the upper hand.

“Alright, ladies, let’s go,” Kika said with a dramatic flourish. “The night awaits, and so does your boy.”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face. Maybe tonight was exactly what I needed—a chance to reset and reclaim my confidence.

The club was packed, the music pulsing through the air as we stepped inside. Neon lights flashed over the crowd, and the atmosphere buzzed with energy. My heart beat in time with the rhythm, a sense of anticipation building.

It didn’t take long for me to spot Franco.

He was standing by the bar, drink in hand, surrounded by a few friends. And, of course, the blonde journalist was there too, her laughter ringing out a little too loud, her hand lingering a little too long on Franco’s arm. But she wasn’t the issue. The only one who mattered was Franco.

Kika nudged me, leaning in to whisper. “Time to work your magic.”

I smirked but kept my focus forward as we passed by the bar, brushing deliberately close to Franco. I didn’t turn to look at him—just a quick glance from the corner of my eye—but I knew he saw me.

Yet, he didn’t move. Didn’t even shift in my direction.

We ordered drinks right next to him, deliberately positioning ourselves in eyesight of Franco. I let my fingers trail across my glass, playing with the straw, while Kika and Alexandra chatted away. The music thumped around us, and the atmosphere was thick with excitement. But still, no reaction from Franco.

Finally, I allowed myself a glance over—just a flick of my eyes—but he was still talking to his group, completely ignoring me. He seemed annoyingly relaxed, easygoing, but he wasn’t focusing on anyone in particular, not even the blonde in front of him. That was a small relief, but his lack of attention toward me stung more than I’d expected.

My stomach tightened with frustration, but I wasn’t about to give up just yet. With a subtle nod to Kika and Alexandra, we moved to the dance floor. If he wasn’t going to come to me, then I’d have to make him notice.

The music vibrated through the club, and I let myself get lost in it, dancing with my friends, feeling the beat in my bones. I moved with confidence, my body swaying to the rhythm, knowing Franco had to be watching. But every now and then, when I glanced back, he was still at the bar—no smirk, no playful look, just the occasional unreadable glance in my direction.

Minutes passed, and my frustration grew. Franco didn’t bat an eye, wasn’t chasing me like he usually did. My attempts to get his attention were falling flat, and the game I’d been so sure of was slipping away.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I muttered to Kika, feeling a flicker of defeat rise in my chest.

Kika gave me a sympathetic look. “Take a breather. He’ll come around.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. I made my way through the crowd, the thumping bass and flashing lights pressing in on me. The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. It felt like Franco was slipping out of my grasp, and the sting of that realization made my chest tighten.

As I reached the hallway leading to the bathroom, my mind raced. Had I pushed him too far? Was this it?

Just as I reached for the door, a hand wrapped gently around my wrist, pulling me back. My breath hitched, and I turned to find Franco standing close, his eyes fixed on mine with a steady intensity.

He didn’t look amused. He looked... focused.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice low but full of that teasing edge I was used to.

My heart raced, my frustration still simmering beneath the surface. “I was.”

Franco didn’t let go of my wrist. Instead, he stepped closer, his other hand resting lightly on my waist. His eyes never left mine, and the heat between us was undeniable.

“You’ve been oddly close to me and my friends all night, hermosa,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. “Staring at me through the crowd.”

I blinked, thrown by his words. “What?”

Franco’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You really think I didn’t notice you? I’ve been watching you since you walked in.”

My pulse quickened, but I kept my tone steady. “You had a funny way of showing it.”

Franco chuckled softly, his hand tightening slightly on my waist. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I was waiting.”

“Waiting?” I repeated, my frustration now mixed with confusion.

Franco nodded, leaning in slightly, his smirk growing. “I knew you cared. All that running around trying to get my attention tonight—it was cute, really.”

My breath caught in my throat as his words sank in. This whole time, he’d been in control. He hadn’t been ignoring me—he’d been making me chase him.

“You—” I started, but Franco cut me off with a laugh.

“I wanted to see you try a little,” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “I’ve been trying to get you for weeks, Y/N. Figured maybe if I pulled away, you’d realize what you were missing. And, well... it worked, didn’t it?”

My heart raced, my frustration melting into something else, something like relief. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied.”

Franco chuckled softly, his eyes darkening with a mix of amusement and something more. “Hmm... almost.”

Before I could respond, Franco closed the distance between us, his hand sliding from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me against him in one swift, confident movement. His other hand cupped my jaw, thumb grazing my skin as his lips met mine with a slow, teasing pressure. The kiss started soft, almost playful, his lips brushing over mine in deliberate, controlled movements, like he was savoring the moment. Then, without warning, the intensity surged, the kiss deepening as Franco pressed me closer, his lips firm and demanding against mine.

I felt the heat radiating from him, my pulse quickening as my fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, twisting it tightly as I pulled him closer. His hand tightened at my waist, fingers digging in slightly as if grounding us both in the moment. His lips moved with a passionate rhythm, his kisses deeper now, bolder, his breath mixing with mine as he tilted my head just enough to angle our kiss perfectly.

My hands slid from his chest to his shoulders, fingers brushing over the firm muscles beneath his shirt as I pressed myself fully against him. Franco’s grip on my waist shifted slightly, one hand slipping to my hip, guiding me even closer. His kisses grew more urgent, his lips parting to allow just a hint of his breath to escape before he claimed my mouth again, the heat between us spiking as the kiss intensified.

I responded in kind, my heart racing as my hands slid into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as I pulled him deeper into the kiss. Franco’s fingers curled against my waist, the firm grip of his hands sending shivers through my body as his lips captured mine again.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, Franco’s forehead rested lightly against mine. His thumb gently traced my lower lip, his smirk widening as he held me close, his hands still possessively gripping my waist, as if even now, he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“Took a while, but we got there,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction.

My pulse was racing, my mind still spinning from the kiss. I opened my mouth to respond but found myself at a loss for words. My heart thudded in my chest, and I felt the heat rising in my cheeks.

“I—” I stammered, flustered but smiling despite myself. “Maybe... maybe I cared more than I let on.”

Franco’s grin widened, his hand sliding gently from my waist to brush a strand of hair away from my face. “See? Not so hard to admit, was it, hermosa?”

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, my eyes dropping briefly before meeting his again. “Guess not.”

Franco leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead with a light, teasing touch. “Told you—you can’t resist me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I managed, but the blush in my cheeks and the way my voice wavered betrayed my attempt at being unaffected.

Franco’s grin widened as he pulled me even closer, his voice warm and full of teasing affection. “Too late,” he said softly. “But nice try.”

Without missing a beat, he wrapped me tighter in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. After a lingering moment, he loosened his hold just enough to meet my eyes, his teasing smirk fading into something softer, more serious.

“You know I’m not letting you go now, right?” he murmured, his voice dropping with sincerity, his green eyes locking with mine in a way that made my heart skip.

I swallowed, feeling a rush of emotions I wasn’t prepared for. For weeks, I’d been pushing and pulling, testing the limits of our back-and-forth game, but this—this was different. There was no playful banter now, no teasing. Just him, holding me close, looking at me like he had been waiting for this moment all along. It made me question why I ever found joy in keeping my distance from him.

“I think I’d be okay with that,” I whispered, my smile soft and genuine.

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Six

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I just haven’t been satisfied with this, but I think I just need to bite the bullet and let it go. I’ve had this in the drafts for a while and have edited it three times.

A/N: I think I might focus on some blurbs. Or, if y’all want, y’all can submit ideas for what Smalltown is gonna be like. I gotta write down a general background for Reader’s childhood there. I have a plan, but wouldn’t mind y’all toss some ideas on to the pile.

A/N: Thank you 🐑 Anon for the happy birthday wishes!

Warning: Kidnapping, Hostage Situation for Reader, Guns, Violence, Death, Yandere Behavior and themes

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

After the initially panic and dread of being kidnapped settles into Reader’s bones, they’re quickly brought to the Iceberg Lounge. Where a Penguin waits to discuss the details of their ransom with them. He’s kidnapped a Wayne or two over the years, but with how well hidden the family has kept their newest member he might as well scope them out and see if he can make a pretty penny from ransoming them. Give them a proper Gotham introduction.

When Penguin finally has Reader he wrongly expects typical Gotham high society behavior. Threats, insult, bargaining, begging, bribing, hell, even crying. But, Reader, even while terrified, keeps being polite. Referring to him as Mr. Penguin, Sir, and saying please and thank you, while doing exactly what they’re told. Honestly, Reader’s more polite and respectful than half his goons and his own goddamn children. Such a damn shame they couldn’t have been his brat.

So he chats with them. Just for a bit.

How does Reader like Gotham? Who’s their favorite bat brat? What’s their favorite food? How much money did your Momma and Daddy leave you? Just friendly get-to-know you questions to help with the nerves. No need to worry. Everyone’s a bit scared during their first kidnapping. But, do they usually live past the first one, sir? Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t ya? You’ll have to be careful with that.

It’s all quite tense for Reader, just sitting in an empty club with a dangerous man. That is, until word comes in that Bruce Wayne is paying the ransom in full. Apparently, it made Gotham headlines. The newest Wayne kidnapped. It’s all over the News, nearly every channel. Yet, Reader notices something. Why don’t they show my face, sir? It’s because this isn’t going to be your last time getting kidnapped. You’re in Gotham, baby bird. We’re all hostages in this city. How sweet of them to try to protect you from it.

It isn’t long after that, when the lounge gets visitor before the ransom money could even be dropped off.

Red Hood.

One of the Bat Brats, as Penguin calls him. His arrival raising Cain. Rubber bullets and real ones flying everywhere. Penguin gets a hold of Reader, rest his umbrella gun to their temple. Come now, Red. Don’t make me blow their pretty little head off. I’m actually fond of this one. Best of the Wayne bunch, in my not-so-humble opinion.

And, in one of the few times since becoming Red Hood, Jason hesitates. Because if he fails, if Reader gets hurt like he did, he’ll probably burn Gotham to the ground. It’s not an option. He can’t, he won’t, and he will not allow it. And, that thought, is at the forefront of his mind as he looks at Reader’s terrified face with a gun pointed at their head.

The pause, however, is noticeable. Not just to Reader, but to Penguin as well. A sign of weakness or a sign of something more foreboding. It last for a brief moment. Then Red Hood is back in action. Only, in that single moment, a decision was made. A dark decision. Something that had been healed and supposedly buried.

Batman had always fostered the importance of preparedness in them. So, of course, Jason had a magazine of live bullets ready to go for an emergency. And, this was a fucking emergency. Who cares about a few goons? And Penguin fucking deserves it.

Bruce will understand this time. How sad is it that he does?

Penguin barely escapes, with only a handful of his men still breathing and a few bullets in his shoulder, but he lives. Along with the information that the newest Wayne brat is precious enough to a Bat Brat to break the no-kill code again. Though, that might in itself become a problem for Gotham. Once again, Gotham will baptized in blood. Only, the sins are still growing under the red water. Perhaps, this time Gotham will drown in it instead.

Jason grabs a shaking and terrified Reader while leaving the lounge filled with bodies. He’ll take care of it later. Right now he needs to get Reader back to the manor, or somewhere anywhere safe. Away from Gotham, away from its criminals, and, most of all, away from him.

For a moment he had been… enraptured when he saw how scared his precious Reader looked with a gun to their head. How they looked at him with such a pitiful pleading expression. The way the shook and quaked. How fucking big their eyes got in fear.

Reader kept looking at him with those same watery fearful eyes. Those shaking fingers. A tremble that they must be all the way down to their bones. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute.

He didn’t make it for before he snapped, grabbing Reader’s face to ask what they talked with Penguin about. What did he want from you? Why did you look so friendly with him? Don’t you know he’s a criminal. He’s dangerous. He just wants to see them cower like that again. Just once more.

It takes a long moment for him to calm down and pull himself away from terrifying Reader. Eventually, noticing an oncoming storm and realizing he had better get Reader somewhere safe and back to Bruce so he can go back and clean up the trash.

Jason leaves a throughly shaken and distraught Reader on the GCPD roof. Right next to a lit Bat Signal for a tired Jim Gordan to find.

Jim finds Reader in the storm, mildly despondent from the entire ordeal. After ushering them inside and trying to lightly question them, he makes a call to Bruce that Red Hood had rescued Reader and they the GCPD had them safe. Bruce, naturally , breaks all sorts of traffic laws to get to them when he hears the concerned tone in Jim’s voice.

Reader, exhausted from the days events and shock, falls asleep in one of the spare chairs in the GCPD building. Bruce practically melts in relief when he finds them, picking them up and gently loading them in his car. NOT A DAMN TRUCK. To take them back home. Most of the GCPD find the gesture touching. What a sweet father he is. How lucky Reader is to have such a loving father.

Arriving home, Bruce puts Reader to bed, and makes sure Alfred is on stand by to comfort them and see to their every need. Watch them. Let me know if there’s even the slightest sign of a nightmare.

After taking a moment to let his eyes linger on a sleeping Reader, he heads down into the Batcave. Calling the family together for a meeting.

Stephanie is distraught. It’s her fault Reader got taken, all her fault. She shouldn’t have left them alone. She should have been right there be their side the entire time. At every moment and got every second.

And, Bruce, with deceptively calm yet devastating words, confirms just as much.

Surprisingly, there’s no shouting. No disagreements. Not from Stephanie, and certainly not from any one else. Just the cold realization that it was her fault Reader was nearly hurt and the solemn acceptance of it. They were supposed to have a chance to get close. Stephane won’t ever let it happen again. She’ll always be close from now on. In every way she can. Even if she’s not worthy.

Jason having gone back to clean up his mess before reporting back to Bruce and the others had more startling news. No one mentions a thing when they see the blood on him. Nor the empty magazines. Nor that familiar look in his eyes that reminds them of when he first came back. Someone had torched the Iceberg Lounge before he got back. Penguin is still running free, but the lounge is up in fire and smoke.

He did manage to see a figure leaving when he finally saw past the flames.

A Talon.

The Court of the Owls was active once more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

With the whole Kidnapping thing and the Court being active again despite its previous destruction, Reader’s life went on completely lockdown. They aren’t allowed to go into Gotham at all. Not that they wanted to. The only reason Bruce didn’t just unenrolled them from Gotham Academy is because Damian, Cassandra, and Duke vow to watch them closely and report everything back to him.

Alfred, from then on, drives them all to and from school. Leading to quiet, bordering awkward, mornings and afternoons.

After the whole ordeal with Penguin and Red Hood, Reader is ninety percent certain the family is Gotham’s Bat vigilantes. Mainly due to the fact that Red Hood reminded Reader eerily of how Jason acted to be around them. Luckily, he barely managed to hold himself back. But, it was clear, enjoyed their fear and wanted to scare them. The whole situation resulted in Reader’s momentarily loss of control.

It also didn’t help that everyone seemed to disappear now.

Sure, Reader rides to school with Cassandra and Duke everyday. Damian is also there, but he just silently watches them with those poisonous green eyes of his. The three of them now hovering in the distance down the back of Reader’s neck. Nevertheless, as soon as they were all back in the Manor, the place becomes like a ghosttown. Even Alfred disappears for hours on end now.

Reader rightful assumes it’s more Bat work. But, there’s no one there to talk about how the incident made them feel. To help them verbally process the ordeal. It hurts.

What hurt the most, however, was Stephanie avoiding them.

Now, if Stephanie had just given them even an empty excuse and left the room it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much. But, to watch the blood drain from Stephanie’s face at the sight of Reader and then physically run away from them was offensive and down right painful.

Then there’s the additional fact that, coincidentally, Jason starts showing back up at the manor. Undoubtedly, helping the others with whatever they’re doing in the library. But, Reader sees him as more often as they pace the empty halls of the manor. And, that hysterical gleam in his eyes reminds them of that night they were rescued.

Tim has been like a ghost since the beginning of Reader’s stay. Every time Reader seems to make progress befriending him, he disappears. Only to reappear and act like nothing happened. Unnaturally, he acts like they’re somehow even closer than before. Each and every time. Like he’s never let Reader alone. Ever. Like he’s always been there watching. And, then he disappears, again and again. Only staying for brief moments.

Barbara is just a thought in Reader’s mind. Reader has seen more of Jim Gordon, her father, than Barbara in the recent weeks.

Mr. Gordon had been wanting to check in on them after the incident and ask them a few questions on what happened that night at the Iceberg Lounge. He was quite gentle in his interrogation, if you could call it that. Barbara had told him Reader wasn’t used to Gotham’s madness and must be treated gently.

Not to say Barbara isn’t checking on Reader. Tim’s not the only on constantly checking the manor cameras as Reader paces.

Dick was like a stray wind. Blowing through the manor, knocking Reader over with the shower of affection then disappearing again. To the library. To Buldhaven. To the ends of the world and back for all they knew. Unfortunately, Reader was growing desperate for any sense of comfort and would cling to him when he came. You have no idea how happy that made him. It was so cute how sad Reader was when he left now. How nice it felt to be needed.

Bruce was different, though. After the incident, he somehow managed to find a way to suffocate Reader with his presence without even being in it for long. Appearing at random to just watch them before disappearing again. Nothing was ever said. He just watched them then vanished.

Reader dreads having to bring up the whole incident with Penguin and Red Hood to Nana. They don’t want to cause anyone back home to worry. Besides, it’ll just remind everyone about that incident a few years back. The one that Reader does everything to forget about. The incident that would probably change a few things for better or for worse. For the family and for Gotham.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Yeah, Penguin lives. But, for a reason. Don’t get mad, please. (I did research and found out he was basically Yandere for his mother and killed his father and brothers to have all her attention for himself. And, he has children. 👀)

A/N: Also, reader’s getting some mild tragic backstory. It’s the DC universe. Everything’s gotta have a bit of bitterness. It’s all for the plot.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist:

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury

[mononijikayu]

why are you obsessed with me? — ryomen sukuna.

"You seemed really into it tonight." he noted casually, though his eyes held that familiar gleam. “Just playing my part, darling.” you replied with a shrug, but your voice was softer, a hint of something warmer seeping through. Sukuna stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "Maybe we’re both playing a little too well, aren’t we, baby doll?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.  You met his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Or maybe we’re not playing at all." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the crowd outside.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern singers au!

WARNING/S: romance, fluff, secretly dating, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, elaborate roleplay, making out, smut, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, teasing, flirting, playfulness, dancing and singing, possessiveness, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of sexual tension, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, frontman! sukuna, front!woman/soloist! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.9k words.

NOTE: finally the starter for this year's kinktober!!! i liked this idea of sukuna being a frontman and just dating another singer and just like getting off doing this play of them having this rivalry but they're actually together??? i sat there and was like 'actually, their bed activities must go wild after every fake fight!'; anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

PEOPLE DIDN’T KNOW HOW IT STARTED. But everything about the rivalry was electric, charged with an intensity that made headlines and drew crowds. Anyone who had been there from the beginning would swear it was something you had to experience firsthand—a front-row seat to the wildfire that was your feud with Ryomen Sukuna. 

Both bands had climbed their way to the top on different wavelengths: you, with your poetic lyrics and magnetic stage presence, a master of drawing the crowd into the emotion of your songs; and Sukuna, with his raw, untamed energy and unapologetic attitude, commanding attention like a force of nature. The music industry loved pitting you against each other, fanning the flames of competition, but no one had expected it to escalate the way it did.

It started innocently enough. Sukuna, in a radio interview, casually commented, “Sure, they're good, if you’re into that whole soft and emotional vibe. I just think music should have a bit more… bite.” The host laughed, the audience cheered, and Ryomen Sukuna’s grin was all teeth—sharp, confident. “You know, you gotta expect more!”

You had fired back the next day on social media with a witty post: “Bite all you want, but if your bark’s louder than your music, maybe you’re just a dog chasing its own tail.”

The tweet went viral within minutes. 

The fans loved it. The music blogs devoured it, dissecting every word, every implication. Both your names were plastered across headlines, articles speculating about a burgeoning rivalry that was just too juicy to ignore. The tension simmered, but it was still lighthearted, still playful. 

Then Sukuna took it to the next level.

At his next concert, in front of a sold-out crowd, he made a spectacle of it. “This next song….” he announced, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s dedicated to someone who thinks they can keep up with me.” His grin was wicked as the crowd roared in anticipation. The opening notes rang out—an aggressive beat, the kind that grabbed you by the throat. The lyrics were sharp, mocking, filled with clever jabs that made it unmistakable who they were about.

"Got your head in the clouds, but no feet on the ground, baby doll." Sukuna sang with a sneer. "You talk about a big game, but all I hear is sound. Nonsense!"

The audience went wild as the guitar line merged with the drums. The pyrotechnics were going insane with the beat. People ate it up. Social media exploded. Hashtags trended within the hour. Your name was on everyone’s lips, and suddenly, it was your turn.

Not to be outdone, you fired back at your own concert, taking shots at his image, his music, and even his fans. The cheers and screams were deafening; you knew you had his attention. From then on, it was an all-out war, a back-and-forth of jabs and taunts, each concert a new battleground. 

Then came the diss tracks.

You released yours first, a biting, cleverly constructed anthem that didn’t just mock his music but dissected his entire persona with surgical precision. The internet went wild. Memes, fan theories, reaction videos—your name was on everyone’s lips. Sukuna's response was swift, and his diss track hit like a punch to the gut. It was brutal, unapologetic, and catchy enough that even your own fans had to admit it was a banger.

Lines were drawn. Your fans and his went head-to-head on every platform imaginable, turning comment sections and fan forums into war zones. Arguments broke out, allegiances were tested, and friendships fractured. The media couldn’t get enough, fueling the fire with articles dissecting every lyric, every post, every glance exchanged between you two. It wasn't just a rivalry anymore; it was a movement.

And through it all, there was an unspoken understanding between you and Sukuna. A thrill in the way your eyes met across the stage, a shared smirk when your names were spoken in the same breath. You were rivals, sure, but there was something else there too—a magnetic pull that neither of you could deny. Every diss, every jab, was just a prelude to something bigger, something inevitable. 

People just had to be there. To witness the chaos, the passion, the music that became the soundtrack to an unforgettable war. To see how a feud could blur the line between hate and something far more dangerous. To feel the tension crackling in the air, knowing that this was only the beginning.

On your next concert, where you decided to strike back. “Heard some noise the other day, bothersome noise really.” you told the crowd, a sly smile playing on your lips. “Sounded like a toddler throwing a tantrum. So, I thought, why not give them something real to cry about?”

The audience cheered, sensing the impending retaliation. And you delivered, every line of your song a retort, every beat a blow aimed squarely at Sukuna. "You get on my nerves; You're so fuckin' annoying, you could poison poison?" you sang, a smirk on your lips as the crowd chanted along, the hook instantly catchy, an earworm that would haunt Sukuna’s name for weeks. 

By the next day, the diss track was trending everywhere. Ryomen Sukuna was asked about it during an interview, and his reaction was priceless. He chuckled, clearly amused, his eyes gleaming with something dangerously playful. “Oh, I’m annoying, am I?” he mused, leaning back in his chair. “Well, sweetheart, when you’re that easy to rile up, it’s just too tempting not to play.”

Behind closed doors, though, it was a different story.

Backstage at a private after-party for Uraume’s album reveal, Ryomen Sukuna cornered you with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "That was cute, baby doll." he said, his voice low, intimate. "But you know you just gave me more to work with, right?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Oh, please. As if you could come up with something half as clever."

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, his smirk growing. “You think I’m not capable of playing your game?”

"I think you're used to being a blunt instrument, hm?" you teased, leaning closer. "But there's an art to this, darling. Not just noise."

His grin widened. “We’ll see about that, baby doll.” he murmured, his hand brushing yours—intentionally, deliberately. For a moment, your breath hitched. There was a charge in the air between you, an unspoken understanding.

It became a pattern. Each new concert brought a fresh wave of insults, veiled in clever lyrics. Every interview turned into an opportunity to stoke the fire, to keep the fans on the edge of their seats. The tension, the back-and-forth, the rapid-fire comebacks—it all played out in front of the world. But behind the scenes, it was like an elaborate game, a high-stakes dance that neither of you could quit.

"You seemed really into it tonight." he noted casually, though his eyes held that familiar gleam.

“Just playing my part, darling.” you replied with a shrug, but your voice was softer, a hint of something warmer seeping through.

Sukuna stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "Maybe we’re both playing a little too well, aren’t we, baby doll?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

You met his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Or maybe we’re not playing at all." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the crowd outside.

He chuckled, leaning in closer until his lips were a breath away from yours. "Careful, my baby doll." he whispered. "People might start thinking about something else.”

Your smile widened, eyes locked with his. "Maybe it is." you replied, your heart racing in your chest, as his lips finally met yours, soft yet insistent. “Maybe it isn’t.”

══════════════════

THERE WAS SO MUCH ADRENALINE. You were pacing back and forth, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your bandmates tuned their instruments, stealing glances at you. The festival was the biggest one yet, and your set was right after Sukuna and his folk. 

The perfect setup for another battle, another clash in this never-ending war. It was another festival gig and Sukuna was here again. But you weren’t just thinking about the performance. Your thoughts kept circling back to that smirk Sukuna flashed you from the stage earlier, as if daring you to make the first move tonight.

Your bassist nudges you with a grin. "You’re not seriously thinking about what he said last week, are you?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course not." you lied. "But he’s been pushing it lately, don’t you think? I’m just figuring out how to outdo him this time."

Just as you said that, the door swung open, and there he was—Ryomen Sukuna, flanked by his own entourage, looking as smug as ever. His eyes zeroed in on you instantly, that familiar glint of mischief lighting up his gaze.

“Ready to get outclassed again?” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. Your set was… okay, if you’re into repetitive noise.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, ignoring the tension that rippled through the room. “Is that the best you’ve got, sweetheart? Because I’ve heard your new track… and honestly, I’m not impressed.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and exhilaration. “Right, because your lyrical masterpiece about your ex was so groundbreaking. What was it called again? ‘Cliché’? Or was it ‘Cringe’? Hard to tell.”

Sukuna laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine, though you’d never admit it. “At least people are talking about it, baby doll.” he shot back, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, you and I both know… this isn’t about the music anymore.”

You took a step closer, refusing to back down. “Oh? Then what’s it about, Sukuna? Enlighten me.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper that only you could hear. “It’s about this… you and me, driving each other crazy. Admit it—you’re having fun.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. For a second, the noise of the festival outside seemed to fade, and all you could hear was your heartbeat, loud and insistent.

“You wish.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m just here to win, Sukuna.”

His grin widened, and he moved even closer, so close you could see the sparks in his eyes. “Then let’s see who wins tonight, baby doll.” he murmured, a challenge in every word. "And maybe, just maybe… we’ll figure out what the hell this really is."

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel, heading out with a laugh that lingered in the air long after he was gone. You stood there, breathless, wondering how the hell he always managed to get under your skin—and why a part of you liked it so much.

Your drummer nudged you, pulling you back to reality. "So… what’s the plan now?"

You smirked, grabbing your microphone, your adrenaline surging. “The plan?” you said. “We give them a show they’ll never forget.”

As you took the stage, you saw him standing off to the side, watching you with that infuriating grin. The crowd was roaring, the lights were blinding, and somewhere in the midst of it all, you felt the spark ignite again.

This was far from over.

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the stage as you stepped up to the microphone, eyes scanning the sea of faces. And there he was, off to the side, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face. Ryomen Sukuna was waiting—waiting to see what you’d do, how you’d respond to his taunts, his challenges. The rivalry had become a game, but one neither of you were willing to lose.

You leaned into the mic, letting the energy of the moment wash over you. "How’s everyone doing tonight?" you shouted, and the crowd erupted in cheers, the noise almost deafening. "You know, I wasn’t sure if we should even bother showing up after that last set." 

You paused, letting the words sink in, and a wave of laughter and excited murmurs rippled through the audience. Your guitarist strummed a sharp chord, and the band jumped in with the opening notes of your new track—the one that had set the internet ablaze.

The fans knew the first lines by heart, screaming them back at you with an energy that could only come from shared devotion. You caught Sukuna’s eye, feeling that familiar thrill at the challenge that lay in his gaze.

Halfway through the set, you decided to escalate things. You turned back to the mic, catching your breath. "You know, guys…." you began. “There’s been a lot of talk lately… about who's really on top in this scene." 

The crowd cheered louder, sensing where you were going. "Some people think it’s that guy over there." You pointed in Sukuna’s direction, and the audience erupted into a mix of boos and cheers. “Hey pink head.”

Sukuna, ever the showman, gave an exaggerated bow, playing to the crowd’s reaction, which only made them more riled up.

“But I think we all know, everyone.” you continued, leaning forward with a grin. “That the real reason people are here tonight… is to see which one of us cracks first. So, what do you say, Sukuna?” You called out, your voice carrying over the noise. “Why don’t you come up here and face me?”

A ripple of excitement and disbelief swept through the crowd. Ryomen Sukuna’s smile grew wider, and without missing a beat, he moved toward the stage, his entourage trailing behind. He jumped up onto the platform, grabbing a mic from one of the stagehands, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You really wanna do this, baby doll?" he taunted, his voice low and teasing. "Because I don’t think your fans can handle what I’ve got in store."

You stepped closer, the tension thick between you, the audience practically buzzing with anticipation. “Oh, I think they can handle a lot more than you can, Sukuna.”

He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo off the stage walls. “Alright then, let’s give them a show.” He turned to the crowd. "How about a little live battle, right here, right now? Let’s see who’s really got the chops."

The crowd went wild, chanting both your name and his, the noise rising to a fever pitch. Your bandmates looked at you, uncertain but excited. You gave them a nod—it was on. You faced off with Sukuna, mics in hand, the beat dropping low and steady, building tension. The music swelled, and Sukuna started first, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. 

“You think you’re on top, but you’re just a phase,  

A flicker, a flame that’ll soon be erased.  

I’m the storm, the fire, the one they all fear,  

And when this is over, you’ll wish you weren’t here.”

The crowd erupted, and you could see the challenge in his eyes, daring you to match his intensity. He continued on, people saying ‘ey’ ‘oh’ and screaming as they echoed their words. You stepped up, not missing a beat as you grinned at him.

“You swagger and boast like you’re king of the stage,  

But all that you’ve got is that pathetic, tired old ass rage.  

I’m the light, the spark, you’re the one drinking cheap booze. 

When I’m done, your crowd’s gonna give you nothin’ but boos.”

The audience was in a frenzy now, torn between the two of you, your words cutting into the night air like knives. Sukuna leaned in closer, his grin still in place, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer force of his presence. He was electric, enigmatic. He was everything all at once as you looked at him.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that, baby doll.” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the chaos. “But do you really think you can outlast me?”

You smirked, adrenaline coursing through you like a drug. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The beat dropped again, faster, harder, and the two of you kept going, each line sharper, each verse more biting than the last. It wasn’t just a performance anymore—it was a test of will, a clash of two forces too strong to coexist but too intrigued to stay apart.

And somewhere in the midst of it all, as the crowd surged and screamed, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t trying to win this battle. Maybe you were just trying to keep Sukuna’s eyes on you for as long as possible. 

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T WANT TO GO TO PRACTICE TODAY. But you decided that you were going to go anyway. Mainly because your bandmates said they’ll buy you your favorite matcha drink with your favorite croissant today. And you like to be given free stuff, so off you went, dressed in baggy clothes and headed to the studio.

The studio lights were dimmed low, and the energy in the room crackled with excitement. Your bandmates were clustered around, phones in hand, eyes glued to the social media explosion that followed your latest diss track.

They seemed more excited than you. Especially now that you get to perform it live. You sat in the center, drinking your matcha drink with a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. The track had dropped at midnight, and by morning, it had already become the talk of the town.

The song was everywhere now. Fans and critics were dissecting every line, every beat, comparing it to Sukuna’s latest attempt at a rebuttal. But this time, you’d hit a nerve. You knew that already. Sukuna’s the type to enjoy saying something about anything and everything. Your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced down to see a message from your manager.

"Check his story." it read. “Now.”

You quickly grabbed your phone, pulling up Sukuna’s social media. Sure enough, an Instagram Live was broadcasting in real-time. Ryomen Sukuna lounged on a familiar couch, the blue glow of his phone screen casting a soft light on his face. His expression was a mix of amused disbelief and genuine intrigue, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, alright, you guys.” Sukuna drawled, glancing at the camera. “I gotta hand it to them—this track is… something. From you-know-who.” He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “But seriously, 'why you so obsessed with me?' That track is pretty interesting.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “That hook… damn, it’s catchy. I’m almost flattered, really. Almost.” He paused, his grin widening. “You really think I got a Napoleon complex, baby doll? Because last I checked, I was standing pretty tall.”

The comments exploded—hearts, fire emojis, and a flurry of messages from fans of both sides, hurling playful and not-so-playful insults. He knew you would be watching his broadcast. You leaned back in your chair, smirking as you watched him. The song had clearly gotten under his skin, just as you’d intended.

Sukuna’s grin faded slightly as he continued, “But let’s talk about some of those lines. ‘Last man on earth still couldn’t get this’? Ouch. You know that’s not true, baby doll.” 

Hesnickers, a mischievous gleam in his scarlet eyes. “Because if I remember correctly… you were the one who couldn’t stop staring at me from across the room just a while ago.”

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, but you kept your expression neutral. No way you’d give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words affected you. At least….You shake your head, continuing to drink your matcha drink. Not here, you think. It would be too obvious.

Sukuna leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “But seriously, props to you and your crew. You got everyone talking, and that’s what it’s all about, right?” He winked at the camera. “Now, I guess I’ll just have to come up with something to top it… and I will.”

He ended the Live with a cocky grin, and your phone buzzed again—a new message from your manager. “He’s biting. Good job. This is gonna blow up.”

Your drummer chuckled, “Did you see the way he was trying so hard not to laugh? He’s loving this just as much as we are.”

Your guitarist nodded, absently strumming a few chords. “Oh, he’s definitely going to come back with something. What’s the next move?”

You grinned, leaning forward, fingers tapping rhythmically on your knee. “Next move? We keep pushing. He wants a war, we’ll give him a war.”

Your bassist chimed in, “And if he’s obsessed, we’re gonna make sure he stays that way.”

The room burst into laughter, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. You had Sukuna’s attention, and you weren’t planning on letting go anytime soon. You stood up and put your drink away. “Alright, alright. Time to practice.”

A few hours later, as you were leaving the studio and headed for dinner with your bandmates, your phone buzzed again—a private message from Ryomen Sukuna himself.

“Nice track, baby doll. You got guts. But don’t think for a second this is over.”

You smirked at the screen, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed back a quick reply. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

With that, you hit send, knowing full well that this game of cat and mouse was far from over. The rivalry had taken on a life of its own, and you were ready to see it through to the end.

The days following the Instagram Live were a whirlwind of activity. The media coverage of your feud with Sukuna was relentless, and the buzz around both your diss track and Sukuna's playful response only grew louder. Your fans were eagerly waiting for the next move, while the anticipation among Sukuna's followers was palpable.

Your studio was buzzing with a new energy as your band prepared for the next stage of the rivalry. You were in a brainstorming session with your team, mapping out strategies and refining ideas. The stakes had never been higher, and everyone was determined to capitalize on the momentum.

As you reviewed some rough cuts of new material, your phone once more buzzed with a notification—a direct message from Sukuna on Instagram. You raised an eyebrow. Your curiosity piqued, and opened it to find a short video clip.

The video showed Sukuna lounging in his familiar and stylish, minimalistic apartment, the camera focused on his face. He had a relaxed, almost smug expression, and he started speaking directly to the camera.

“Hey, baby doll.” he began, his voice smooth and confident. “I see you’re still all fired up from our little game. Can’t say I’m surprised. But if you think you’ve got me cornered, you’re in for a surprise.”

He paused, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m working on something that’ll blow your track out of the water. Something special, just for you.” He leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a more intimate level. “And I promise, it’s going to make you rethink everything you thought you knew about this competition.”

Sukuna ended the video with a wink, and the message was signed with a flourish: “Yours truly, Sukuna.”

You chuckled, impressed by his confidence and intrigued by his hint. You knew this was only the beginning of a new round in your ongoing rivalry. You showed the video to your bandmates, and they were immediately excited. 

“Looks like Sukuna’s not holding back.” your drummer said, leaning over to get a better look. “What’s our move?”

You grinned, feeling the familiar thrill of competition. “We push the envelope even further. If he’s coming at us with something big, we need to be ready to top it. Let’s go all in.”

The team rallied, diving into planning and creative sessions with renewed vigor. Ideas were thrown around, debates sparked, and everyone was charged with the excitement of outdoing Sukuna. Later that evening, as you were reviewing the final mix of your new track, your phone buzzed again. 

It was another message from Sukuna, this time with a photo attached. It was a behind-the-scenes shot from his recording studio, showing him with headphones on, a focused expression on his face. The caption read: “Just a little preview of what’s coming your way. Can’t wait to see your reaction 😉”

You couldn’t help but smile. The rivalry was as thrilling as ever, and Sukuna’s antics only made it more engaging. You replied with a playful message: “Bring it on, Sukuna. We’re ready for whatever you’ve got.”

As you finished up for the night, you felt a rush of anticipation. The battle between you and Sukuna had transcended mere competition; it had become an electrifying dance, each of you pushing the other to new heights. And you were more than ready for the next move.

The stage lights cut through the darkness, bathing Sukuna in a dramatic, almost ethereal glow. The crowd roared with anticipation, their excitement palpable as they waited for Sukuna’s next performance. You were in the VIP section, surrounded by your bandmates, eyes fixed on the stage. The rivalry had reached a new peak, and tonight was the next chapter.

Sukuna appeared at the center of the stage, wearing a tailored black suit that accentuated his confident, charismatic presence. His expression was a mix of cocky assurance and playful challenge. He grabbed the microphone with an almost theatrical flair, and the band behind him struck up a powerful, bass-heavy beat.

He began to sing, his voice dripping with both charm and defiance. The lyrics were a direct response to your latest track, each line crafted to counter your words with his own brand of swagger and wit. 

“You think you’re clever with your little diss track, babe, 

But let me show you what I’ve got—watch me take it back. 

You throw punches in the dark, but I’m the light that blinds, 

Every move you make, every line you drop, I’m right behind.”

The crowd cheered, their energy feeding into Sukuna’s performance. His voice was smooth and commanding, each note perfectly delivered with an edge of playful arrogance. As the chorus hit, Sukuna took a moment to address the audience directly. He flashed a grin and winked in your direction, his eyes locking with yours for a brief, charged moment.

“And you think you know me? Think you’ve got my number? 

Watch me turn this game around, and watch you slumber. 

I’m the king of this stage, and you’re just a player, 

So step aside, baby doll, it’s time for a new layer.

Call me up, call me late, rumble some date.

Come on, be obsessed with me, get home late.”

The wink was truly unmistakable—a flirtatious, provocative gesture that carried both a challenge and a promise. You bit your lower lip. It was clear that Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just participating in this rivalry; he was fully immersed in it, relishing every moment and using it to his advantage.

Just as much, you also couldn’t help but be impressed, despite the competitive edge. The rest of his performance was electrifying, and Sukuna’s ability to blend his charm with his musical prowess only heightened the tension and excitement of your ongoing feud. 

As the song ended, Sukuna raised his arms in victory, soaking in the applause and cheers of his fans. He glanced over at you again, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. The crowd’s energy was palpable as they chanted Sukuna’s name, and you could feel the shift in the air—an unspoken understanding that this battle was far from over. 

You turned to your bandmates, a determined gleam in your eyes. “He’s got moves, no doubt about it. But we’ve got our own plans. Let’s give him something he won’t forget.”

══════════════════

YOU AGREED TO MEET UP IN HIS STUDIO. After all, you had a key to his studio. One of only two people, besides his manager. The echo of the door clicking shut behind you was the only sound in the dimly lit room.  The minute you stepped inside, a familiar hand grabbed your waist, spinning you around with a rough but playful urgency. You couldn’t help but feel adrenaline rush through you.

You looked up to see Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk inches from your face, his eyes dancing with mischief. You couldn’t help but bite your lips as he lets his attention stuck on you for a little while longer. He’d just gotten here after a long schedule today, that you knew. But he just couldn’t pass up this moment. He missed you, after all.

“You’ve really done it now, baby doll.” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "That track? You know it’s all anyone is talking about. Got my fans in a frenzy, and I can't say I'm not impressed."

You laughed, slipping your arms around his neck. “Wasn’t that the plan?” you whispered back, feeling his grip tighten possessively around your waist. “To keep everyone on their toes? To keep you on your toes?”

Sukuna’s smirk softened into something a little darker, a little more heated. “Oh, you’ve got me on my toes alright, baby doll.” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

You shivered at the feel of his breath against your skin, but you didn’t back down. “And you love every second of it, darling.” you shot back, daring him with your eyes. “Admit it, Sukuna. You like it when I push your buttons.”

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that sent a thrill through you. “Maybe I do, baby doll.” he admitted, nipping playfully at your earlobe. “Maybe I love watching you act all tough out there, throwing shade at me like you mean it. Gets my blood pumping.”

You tilted your head back, grinning up at him. “You think you’re the only one who gets a thrill out of this? Watching you strut around on stage, pretending you’re so unaffected…” You traced a finger along his jawline, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. “I know better. I see how you watch me.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening. “Oh, you’ve got no idea what I think when I’m up there, you know.” he growled, his lips brushing against yours, the air between you charged with electricity. “No idea how much I want to drag you off that stage and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, fierce and demanding, pouring every bit of the adrenaline still buzzing through your veins into the press of your lips against his. He responded instantly, kissing you back with a hunger that made your knees weak, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, until there was no space left between your bodies.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, panting slightly, foreheads resting against each other. “I knew you’d enjoy it, our little roleplay.” you whispered, your lips brushing his with every word. “I knew you’d love playing this game.”

Sukuna laughed softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Oh, it’s more than just a game, baby doll.” he murmured. “It’s our foreplay.” He grinned wickedly, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. “Every line, every taunt, every verse… just getting me more worked up for moments like this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned into his touch, your smile matching his. “So… what’s next?” you asked, teasingly. “Another diss track? Or are we moving on to something a little more… physical?”

He chuckled again, his lips brushing yours in the faintest of kisses. “Both, baby doll.” he whispered. “Always both. I’ll keep you on your toes, and you keep me guessing. That’s how this works, right?”

You nodded, feeling the thrill of his words spark through you. “You already know it well, darling.” you grinned at him, pulling him closer for another kiss, deeper this time, more intense. 

Because behind all the public drama, the mock insults, the fan wars and the staged battles, there was something real—a chemistry, a connection, that neither of you could resist. No one else knows, and they didn’t have to. Because that’s what makes it fun, that’s what gets you hot, high for him. 

This elaborate game of rivals was just another way for you and Sukuna to both express that pull, that irresistible need to keep challenging each other, to keep pushing each other’s buttons in every way possible. And you knew, as he did, that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

As Sukuna’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with a fervent intensity, you felt the world around you blur into a haze of desire and adrenaline. His hands roamed possessively over your body, each touch a reminder of the raw, unfiltered connection that existed between you.

The heat of his skin, the firm grip of his hands, and the way he pressed you closer only heightened the sensation that this was more than just a physical encounter—it was an embodiment of the fierce rivalry and undeniable attraction that had been building between you two.

The way his fingers traced your curves, his touch both commanding and tender, spoke volumes. It was as if he was claiming you, not just in the heat of the moment but in a way that was deeply intertwined with the ongoing battle of wits and passion you both were engaged in. The contrast between his rough, assertive touch and the gentle caresses created a whirlwind of emotions, each sensation adding to the already charged atmosphere.

As you pull back slightly, your breaths mingling, Sukuna’s gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark with a mix of satisfaction and challenge. His smirk, still present, held a promise of more to come—more battles, more games, and an unspoken agreement that this was only the beginning of an exhilarating journey. For a moment, you think you fell in love deeper with him again.

The gradual approach of his fingertips was a slow, tantalizing tease, each moment stretched out with the deliberate pace of someone who knew exactly how to build anticipation. You could feel the heat from his touch even before his fingers made full contact, the mere thought of what was to come causing your breath to hitch and your body to respond eagerly.

As his fingers inched closer, their warmth and the promise of what lay ahead created a growing sense of urgency and need. The gentle caress of his fingertips, as they brushed against your inner thighs, was both intimate and assertive, a clear indication of his intent. The friction was electric, a stark contrast to the cool air around you, amplifying every sensation as his touch grew more purposeful.

You could feel his breath against your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, locked onto yours with an intense focus, conveyed both a challenge and a deep-seated desire. The way he watched you, his gaze dark and smoldering, only added to the overwhelming allure of the moment.

His fingers finally made contact with your womanhood, the touch both delicate and firm, exploring with a confident familiarity. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation as his fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and testing. Each stroke was designed to elicit a response, to push you further into a state of heightened arousal.

A satisfied smirk curled on Sukuna’s lips, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of pride and desire. “You know it don’t you, hm?” he growled, his voice rough with arousal. “No one else can touch you like this, no one else can make you feel what I do.”

His words were a taunt and a promise, each thrust a reminder of the exclusive, raw connection between you. “You need this, don’t you?” he continued, his voice low and seductive. “You need me to push you, to make you feel every inch of me.”

Your breath hitched, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a moan slipped from your lips. He was relentless, and he knew it, his movements intentional and powerful, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“Admit it, baby doll.” Sukuna demanded, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Admit that no one else can make you feel this way.”

You bit back a moan, your head tilting back as you fought for control, but the way he looked at you, the way he moved against you—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. “You… you’re so full of yourself, darling.” you managed to gasp, though the quiver in your voice betrayed how much he was getting to you.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. “Maybe.” he murmured, his lips grazing your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse. “But you like that about me, don’t you? You like the way I take control… the way I make you lose yourself.”

As Sukuna’s breath grew heavier, mingling with yours, he leaned in closer, the heat of his body was all too much for you. His eyes, locked onto yours, held a smoldering intensity that combined both dominance and a profound passion. The teasing brush of his fingers, so close to your most intimate area, sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fiery need that built with every second.

When you finally released a groan escaping your lips, you held him tightly, your body trembling with the intensity of the moment. Sukuna’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and approval.

“You really get a load of it when it’s good, don’t you?” he teased, his voice low and filled with a playful edge. His tone was both confident and affectionate, the snicker that followed underscoring the satisfaction he felt in having pushed you to such a heightened state.

Sukuna’s words hung in the air, a provocative mix of satisfaction and challenge. His fingers continued their gentle, lingering caress, prolonging the aftershocks of your release. The smirk on his face was unmistakable—a blend of triumph and deep-seated affection that he only reserved for moments like these.

“You know, baby doll..." he said, his voice softening to a more intimate tone. “it’s not just about getting a reaction. It’s about knowing how much you need this—how much you crave every bit of it.” His hand moved with deliberate, gentle strokes, still teasing, ensuring that the aftermath was as intense as the build-up.

You looked up at him, breathless and flushed, meeting his gaze with a mix of desire and exhaustion. The connection between you two felt palpable, a mix of competition and passion that seemed to define every interaction.

“Is that so?” you managed to reply, your voice hoarse but laced with playful defiance. “And what makes you think you’re the only one who can bring me to that edge?”

Sukuna’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his lips curving into an even broader smile. “Oh, I don’t think I’m the only one. But I do like to think that I’m the best at it. There’s something about our… little games that just makes everything so much more exhilarating.”

He pulled you closer, his breath warm against your ear. “And you love it. Every second of it. The highs, the lows, the rivalry... it’s all part of the thrill.”

You shivered at his words, the heat of his body and the intimacy of the moment amplifying the connection between you. His touch was a constant reminder of the dynamic between you two—a blend of passion, competition, and mutual desire that made every encounter both electrifying and deeply personal.

As the intensity of the moment began to wane, Sukuna’s touch softened, and he held you close, his hand resting possessively on your lower back. The playful glint in his eyes remained, but there was also a deeper sense of satisfaction, as if the night had cemented something unspoken between you two.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep this up, you know?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

He starts to emphasize his words, his voice low and commanding, as he enters you with a slow, deliberate thrust that sends a shudder through your entire body. Each movement is precise, calculated, as if he wants to draw out every sensation, making sure you feel the intensity of him.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens reflexively, your nails scraping against his skin, leaving faint trails in their wake. The contact seems to please him, a low, almost primal growl escaping from his throat, vibrating through his chest and into yours.

The warmth between you both intensifies, the heat of the moment engulfing you. It’s stifling, but you crave more of it, each moment more consuming than the last. Your mind, once racing with scattered thoughts, is now empty, surrendered entirely to the sensations overwhelming you.

Every nerve is alive, tuned to the rhythm of his body against yours. As Sukuna pushes deeper, your world narrows to the singular, undeniable reality of him filling you completely. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating, and you’re lost in the sheer intensity of it. All that exists is him, inside you, and the way your body responds to every movement he makes.

“Say it, baby doll.” he insisted, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp thrill through you. “Say you need me.”

Your heart pounded with thunderous applause, and for a moment, you hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But the way he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, pulled the confession from your lips.

“I… I need you, darling.” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your body arching against his, craving more. “I need you, Sukuna. All of you.”

A satisfied grin spread across his face, his hold on you tightening as he captured your lips in a fierce, claiming kiss. “That’s right.” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “Only me. Always me.”

And with that, he moved with renewed intensity, each deep thrust and touch a declaration, a challenge, a promise that you were his—and that no one else could ever come close to what the two of you had. He was good, he was good at making you feel like this. 

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your shoulders, down the curve of your spine—each kiss a mark, a reminder that this, whatever it was between you, was uniquely yours. Every gasp, every moan he drew from you only seemed to fuel him more, his movements becoming more fervent, more determined to prove his point.

And you couldn’t help but revel in it—the way he knew your body, the way he knew exactly how to drive you to the edge and pull you back, just to see the need in your eyes grow stronger.

“You love it, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “You love the way I make you feel… the way I take you apart and put you back together again.”

You could only nod, lost in the rhythm of his movements, the intensity of his gaze, the heat that built between you. Because he was right—there was something about the way he touched you, the way he pushed you, that no one else could ever replicate. And in that moment, with his hands on your skin and his voice in your ear, you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

He continued with a deliberate rhythm, his movements precise and relentless. You could feel the intensity building, every touch and motion sending waves of sensation coursing through you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mix of pleasure and the sheer force of his actions. He always knew how to push you to the edge, how to test your limits, and tonight was no different.

Each thrust was a carefully measured challenge, a dance of dominance and submission that left you breathless, gasping for air yet craving more. The friction between you was electric, sparking and crackling like a live wire, building with every moment until you felt like you might burst from the sheer pressure of it.

Sukuna’s eyes never left yours, a dark, consuming gaze that seemed to see right through you, drinking in every reaction, every gasp and shiver. “You feel that?” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “That’s what happens when you get me riled up and excited, baby doll.”

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat, your body trembling under his touch. He was relentless, every motion a reminder of his strength, his intensity, and the unique connection that bound you together. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, the kind of sensation that left you dizzy and reeling, your heart pounding in your chest.

But beneath the raw physicality, there was something more—a deep, unspoken understanding, a bond that neither of you could deny. His touch wasn’t just about possession or power; it was about claiming you in a way that no one else ever could. And in his eyes, you could see the same need reflected back at you, a hunger that matched your own.

“Tell me, baby doll.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell me you feel it too.”

“I feel it, darling.” you whispered, your voice breaking with the intensity of the moment, your hands gripping his arms as if anchoring yourself to him. “I always feel it… with you.”

A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze softening for just a moment, a flicker of something almost tender beneath the heat. “Good, good…” he said softly. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now… not ever.”

And with those words, he moved with renewed determination, his hands tightening on your hips, his body pressing closer, as if trying to fuse the two of you together. The rhythm between you became more frantic, more desperate, as if neither of you could get enough, as if the very air between you was charged with the electricity of everything left unsaid.

The world around you faded, until there was nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his breath against your skin. And in that moment, you knew that whatever games you played in public, whatever battles you waged on stage, nothing could compare to this. To the way he made you feel, to the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

And as the pleasure built to a fever pitch, you surrendered to the sensation, letting it take you over completely, knowing that with Sukuna, you would always find yourself right back where you belonged—in his arms, in his gaze, lost in the heat of this dangerous, undeniable connection.

Your bodies moved in perfect synchrony, a rhythm known only to the two of you. Sukuna’s grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you of his presence, his power. His breath was hot against your neck, each word he whispered sending a fresh wave of heat through your veins.

"You're mine. Only mine." he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with conviction. "No one else gets to have this… to have you like this." His words sent a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone both thrilling and comforting in its intensity.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark desire and something deeper—something that made your heart clench in your chest. "You think anyone else could handle you?" he taunted, a sly grin spreading across his lips. "Handle us?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, despite the breathless state he had you in. "N–no one." you managed to reply, your voice a whisper, yet full of certainty. "No one else would even come close. Only you.”

His grin widened at your words, his eyes lighting up with that familiar mix of pride and satisfaction. "Damn right." he said, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, almost tender gesture before capturing them in a fierce kiss. “Only me.”

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, the air between you charged with an intensity that was almost palpable. "We could do this forever, you know," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his expression suddenly serious. "Keep pretending, keep pushing each other… but you and I both know the truth."

You looked up at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his gaze. "And what's that truth, Sukuna?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against yours as he spoke. "That no matter what happens on stage, no matter what anyone else thinks… this is real. What we have… it’s real."

For a moment, all the bravado, all the games, all the theatrics fell away, and it was just the two of you, standing at the edge of something deeper, something more profound. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of rightness settling in your bones. "Yeah, of course." you whispered back, your hand finding its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. "It’s real."

And as his lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, you knew that whatever this was—rivalry, love, obsession—it was something you wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Because with Sukuna, every line blurred, every touch sparked, and every word spoken between you felt like the beginning of a song only the two of you knew the lyrics to.

A song that, no matter how many verses you added, would never truly end.

══════════════════

epilogue 

The social media buzz had been relentless since the rivalry between you and Sukuna had begun. Fans and media alike were glued to every update, eagerly dissecting every new development in your ongoing feud. It was a carefully crafted spectacle, each move calculated for maximum impact. But what came next was entirely unexpected.

Sukuna was known for his bold, often controversial social media presence, but this latest post took things to a whole new level.

The photo he shared was striking and intimate—a mirror selfie in which Sukuna stood with his back to the camera, his muscular body on full display. In front of him, you were barely visible, your form concealed mostly by his arm, his body strategically positioned to cover you. The image was provocative, suggesting an intimacy that had never been publicly acknowledged before.

The caption, simple yet loaded, read: “My baby doll likes excitement.”

The post exploded across the internet. Fans, already used to the charged tension between you two, were stunned into silence before erupting into a frenzy of speculation and excitement. The comments section was a whirlwind of reactions, from shock to adoration, as people tried to make sense of this unexpected revelation.

At first, there was a stunned silence from your side. You were sitting in your living room, scrolling through your feed, when you saw the post. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the image and the caption. The boldness of it was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

Minutes later, your phone buzzed with notifications. Your own social media accounts were flooded with messages, your fans reaching out with a mix of curiosity and support. Some were confused, others were jubilant, but everyone was talking about it.

You decided it was time to respond, and you crafted a post that acknowledged the new development without backing down from the playful rivalry. You shared a photo from one of your concerts, the stage lights casting a dramatic glow.

Your hands were littering towards his naked chest while you were dressed on your stage outfit. He came to visit you and well....had fun in your waiting room. You added a caption: “Guess Sukuna’s not the only one who likes a little excitement. See you on stage, my darling.”

Sukuna’s reaction was swift and equally bold. He replied to your post with a comment: “Looking forward to it. Let’s see who can keep the audience more entertained.”

The exchange between you two set the internet alight. The combination of intimacy and competition only fueled the frenzy, turning your personal revelation into the hottest topic of the moment.

Behind the scenes, the two of you found solace in the chaos, a private celebration of your bold move. When you next met, the atmosphere was charged with a new kind of excitement. 

Sukuna greeted you with a grin that spoke volumes. “Well, that certainly stirred things up, hm?” he said, pulling you into a fierce hug.

You laughed, your heart racing with the thrill of it all. “You’ve got that right.” you replied, looking up at him with a smile. “But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ready for the next round?”

You looked into his eyes, a mix of challenge and affection in your gaze. “Always.” you whispered back. And with that, you both knew that whatever came next, it would be just as exhilarating and unpredictable as the ride you were already on.

[dovveri]

not officially putting this as a request but do what you want with this 😂😂 i just think sana’s the type to be whiney asf when u tell her she can’t kiss u cause u’re wearing a cap and that she’d hit her head when she leans in sOooo as payback, she’d tell you that you can’t kiss her when she’s wearing specs because you’ll just bump your nose on the frame 😂😂😂😂

effervescent

synopsis: sana’s mad bcs you won’t let her kiss you when ur wearing a cap in public :(

warnings: puuuuure fluff + suggestive towards the end

w/c: 1.1k

a/n: its funny i actually had this exact thought the day before the anon sent this in but i couldnt say it bcs it wasnt long enough for a fic but then this came in and i went what da hell i can do a short lil piece ^,^

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

sana was an affectionate person. and an even more affectionate girlfriend. she absolutely loved clinging on to you, hugging you, kissing you, even in public she had no qualms with cuddling, being sickeningly in love, she loved it even more when you’d get embarrassed and shy, cooing at how cute you were, pinching your cheeks teasingly.

no matter where you where, if you were in her near vicinity, she’d find some way to get a hand on you, or slide into your lap, until you were sharing skin-to-skin contact she would refuse to leave you alone.

that also meant she would get pouty and adorably sad whenever you rejected her advances.

like now.

“baaaby gimme a kiss.”

“can’t baby i’m wearing a cap.”

“soooo? come hereee-“ she’s pulling you into her, craning her neck so she can kiss you but she knocks her head against the front of your cap, whining and pulling away immediately, cradling her forehead.

you giggle, “i told you baby.”

“just take off your cap then.” she’s pouting and looking up at you with a frown. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like teasing her to get her looking this adorable for you.

“no can do. we’re in public sweetie the paps will get us.”

“i don’t care about them!”

“well i do.” you boop her nose lovingly, internally squealing at the way her nose scrunches in response, “you will not be making headlines for making out with one of your fans in public.”

“you’re not my fan anymore! you’re my girlfriend now!”

“not to the public i’m not.”

“then we can come out as a couple.” she’s determined with her statement, a cute crease coming to rest between her eyebrows as she starts thinking around how to do exactly that.

“noo baby your company would never allow that. besides i’m fine being yours in private. and i wouldn’t want to jeopardise your career anyway. and before you can say i won’t- i will, i love you but your fans are kinda insane.”

sana pouts, “fine.” she stomps away not saying anything else but you know it’s fine because she’s still holding your hand and pulling you along even when she may be a little annoyed you won’t let her kiss you in public.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

"sana! i'm home!"

"okaeri!"

you slip off your shoes, padding into the living room where you heard your girlfriend's voice coming from, smiling at her in her reading glasses pouring over a set of papers spread on your coffee table.

"hi baby, what are you doing?"

"reading over these contracts the company sent. how was your day?"

"good. better now i'm home with you." you lean down to kiss her in greeting, but at the last second she turns her head so your lips land on her cheek.

you pout, bringing a hand up to her face to turn her back to you but she refuses, adamant on not looking at you.

"baby what's wrong?"

"nothing."

"something's wrong. did i do something? i swear i put my clothes in the laundry this morning."

"nothing's wrong."

you frown, crouching down fully to squat next to her. “if nothing’s wrong why won’t you kiss me?”

“i’m wearing specs.”

you’re silent for a second, “…okay…?”

“yeah.”

“um… are they new? i’m sorry if i didn’t notice. you look gorgeous whatever you’re wearing so i’m always stunned by you!” you try and joke with her but receive no reaction, coughing awkwardly and trying to cover up, “but they look nice!”

“thank you. they’re not new.”

“oh… right so…”

“i’m wearing specs. that’s why i won’t kiss you.”

“oh! wait why won’t you kiss me?”

she sighs, finally looking at you, “i told you. i’m wearing specs.”

“okay and? i’ve kissed you before while you’ve been wearing glasses.” you start to smile again, thinking she’s just teasing you, leaning in again but you’re shocked when she turns away with a huff, pushing her frames up her nose and picking up another page of paper.

“okay what the hell.” you snatch the papers out of her hand.

“hey!”

you ignore her protests. sliding into her lap and wrapping your hands around her neck, all while she still refuses to look at you or even touch you, her hands falling limp to her side after you take her papers away from her, then using them to lean back and away from you with a pout.

you can't have any of that so you pull on her neck gently, urging her forward.

"you're interrupting my work." she's got that slightly annoyed tone in her voice, but you know better.

"you're interrupting my kisses."

"i told you i'm wearing glasses so i can't kiss you right now. you'll bump your nose on the frame."

you frown, "no i won't."

"yes you will."

before she can react you lean in and steal a quick peck, breaking away with a giggle when she finally looks at you, only to gape at you in shock.

"y/n!"

"see? didn't bump my nose or anything."

"you weren't meant to kiss me!"

"why not?"

"because i didn't get to kiss you when you were wearing a cap so you don't get to kiss me when i'm wearing specs."

"wha- is that what this is about?"

"yes!"

you laugh, throwing your head back, still clinging on to her, "awwwh oh my god you really are a baby." you grin cheekily before dipping in again, stealing another kiss, then another, holding her face between your hands and pecking her all over her face, on her specs too while she whines and tries to push you off. "my baby." you finish with another kiss on her lips, giggling when you break away and have her chasing after you now to prolong your kiss.

"'m not a baby."

"yes you are."

"no i'm not."

"yes you are."

"no! i'm not!"

you laugh, letting her have it, patting her cheek affectionately that's now puffed out in a pout, "i'm sorry for not letting you kiss me while i was wearing a cap okay? you have full permission to do whatever you want to me next time i'm wearing one."

she raises an eyebrow, a smirk slowly appearing on her lips, "anything?"

you immediately become wary, shirking away from her but her hands come up to grip at your hips keeping you in her lap, "anything within reason of course."

"so if i can make riding your face in public sound reasonable... anything goes."

you snort, face immediately going bright red, “i don’t know how you could ever convince me to do that sana.”

“you’ll be surprised at how persuasive i can be then.” she’s grinning now, looking adorably innocent in her wide frame glasses and oversized sleep shirt but suggesting completely devilish things.

you groan, pushing away from her and out of her lap, but not before she laughs, pulling you in again and kissing you, no longer caring that she’s still wearing her glasses that now have your lipstick mark printed on them.

[euthymiya]

Scandals Are Good for the Heart ft. Takami Keigo (Hawks)

Synopsis: As his publicist, you’re supposed to be the one who gets Pro Hero Hawks out of scandals. Not in them. He doesn’t seem half as bothered by the headlines as you, though—in fact, he doesn’t seem bothered by them at all. He seems oddly thrilled

Contains: fem reader ; reader is keigo’s publicist ; takes place before all might’s retirement ; implied alcohol drinking ; implied sexual relations (there is no explicit content, though) ; getting together ; coworkers to fuck buddies to lovers ; reader has no quirk (or lack thereof) specified

Despite his cheeky nature, Keigo is good at avoiding scandals. And you’re good at cleaning them up. It makes for a good, effortless duo. He stays out of trouble, and you’re an expert at cleaning up the few minimal slip ups he does occasionally make, and he gets to keep a pristine, popular public persona.

So what happens when both of you seem to have made a joint effort to making the biggest tabloid headline of the year?

“Yeesh,” he winces, eyeing the pictures with a grimace as you sit frozen in shock, “they got my bad side.”

“Your bad side?” You hiss, fighting the urge to throw your phone at him as you glare. Your phone is too costly to afford that, though, so you eye the stapler on his desk for a brief moment. “We’re photographed on every media outlet kissing as we leave together and you’re worried about your bad side?”

“Well, they got your good side so it’s easy for you to say,” he pouts, yelping as he dodges the stapler when you really do throw it. “It’s a compliment!”

“Hawks,” you grit, rubbing your temple as you take a deep breath. He’s good at avoiding messes, so you’ve never had trouble working with him, but that doesn’t mean his personality hasn’t gotten under your skin before. His nonchalance can be pretty infuriating at times. “This is serious.”

“Is it?” He teases, wriggling two busy brows as he leans back in his chair. “Care to enlighten me why?”

“Because now everyone will know that…that…”

“That what? We fuck? Technically, they don’t know that far just yet.”

“Keep your voice down,” you gasp, turning to look at his door to make sure there’s no receding footsteps close enough to hear him.

He chuckles, like this is all just an amusing little turn of events. Of course, for him, it must be. Scandals like these always blow over for the well-loved, popular heroes. People like you are simply the targets of ruthless fans, ripped apart by media. This isn’t a mess you can easily clean up for yourself—and who would hire you after this? Certainly no other respectable hero or agency. Why would anyone want a publicist who kisses their clients in such a scandalous manner in public? (And more importantly, why would they want a publicist who kisses their clients at all?)

“Things happen,” he shrugs, eyeing you with that smug, smooth little grin of his. Such an asshole, you want to spit the insult at him, but instead, you grip the armrest of your chair to keep from throwing anything else at his head.

“You’re not worried about this at all? What will the commission say?” You insist. He hums, tapping his chin lightly in thought before he looks back at you—he looks positively enthused.

“They’ll say we’ll have to make it look believable for at least a bit so people don’t get a bad image of me. Don’t you think so?”

“So that’s your solution,” you sputter, looking at him in disbelief. “We keep up an act?”

You don’t know how you got here.

Well, really, you do—you just didn’t think it’d escalate to this. Going out for drinks with Keigo and a few other people in the agency isn’t really out of the ordinary. What is out of the ordinary is one day waking up in his bed, wrapped up in his arms (and wings) as he snores into the back of your neck. Your clothes are strewn across the floor, and there’s a dull ache of soreness in your body that tells you something very telling about your activities the previous night.

You were drunk, you’d reasoned that day. Drunk and unaware of what you both were doing and made a bad decision or two. It’s nothing you can’t fix—you simply just never have to do it again.

But you do it again. And again. And again. What’s worse? You do it completely sober the next few times. Sometimes in risky and shameless places that you don’t even want to sit and remember. You’ve both always been good about hiding it, though. No one has ever suspected you—and if they have, they seem to know to keep their mouths shut about it because nothing close to any rumors or evidence has ever been leaked.

Until now, at least. One sloppy night of drinking again has led you both to this predicament. And you’re not quite sure how to dig yourselves out of this one—you’ve never been the cause of a scandal before, let alone done damage control to save yourself.

Keigo doesn’t look half as troubled as you. He doesn’t look troubled at all, in fact—he looks bright and thrilled by the whole of it.

“Who says it has to be an act?” He slowly grins at you, wider, cheekier, a little softer. A loose feather comes towards you, you can see it from the corner of your eye. It gently traces over your jawline before grazing your cheek, making you huff as your face feels hot.

“If this is your way of asking someone out, I can see why you’ve never had a relationship scandal before this. You’re awful at romance.”

“That’s harsh,” he pouts, “I’m being very vulnerable here.”

“Yeah, totally,” you snort.

Finally, he rises from his chair, slowly walking around his desk before making his way over to you. His hands grab yours, and you think he’ll pull you to stand to meet his—instead, he kneels down to meet you.

“Can we stop doing that thing we do?” He asks quietly, oddly vulnerable this time.

You let out a shaky breath, swallowing as you stare down at your joined hands. “What thing?” You ask quietly.

“The one where we get really close one moment and pretend like nothing happened the next? It’s getting to me. Might hurt my performance, even. Can’t have that as a top hero.”

“Guess not,” you smile gently, huffing a soft, breathy laugh. “I wouldn’t want that blood on your hands if you messed up.”

“Our hands,” he corrects, “since it’s partly on you, too.”

“Definitely just yours,” you tease, plucking one hand out of his to poke his lip as he pouts again. “So…”

“So…?” He prods, waiting for you to finish.

“So we’re really doing this?”

“Is that a yes?” He brightens, feathers ruffling slightly in excitement.

He’s so precious sometimes, you forget the horrors of his job. The risks and dangers he faces. It’s not easy, you think, being with someone who does something so unpredictable for a living. So much uncharted territories you’re not sure you want to chart.

But then you meet his eyes, honey and earth swirling in two big, hopeful circles. Something rattles in your ribcage, aching to be freed, shaking at the cage that is your bones.

“This isn’t a good idea,” you whisper. His lips are already leaning closer and closer.

He hums, murmuring a nonchalant, “can’t be harder than some of the fights I’ve won. I’m still standing.”

“That doesn’t help,” you scowl.

He chuckles, leaning in and pressing a soft, delicate kiss to your lips. Hesitant, even—like he’s giving you room to pull away if you wanted.

The problem is you never can. Not even it comes to him.

“Keigo,” you sigh softly, using his given name in a rare moment. He tells it to you drunk one night. He tells you bits and pieces a lot of the time he’s drunk—his childhood and his training. His past and his story.

There’s a lot more you want to know. A lot more you can’t know unless you take a brave, bold step past the line you never dared cross.

“Yeah?” He humbles, lips still hovering over yours.

“You’re going to make me the nations most hated person among the ladies.”

He laughs, bright and thrilled. Something oddly gleeful and innocent that doesn’t get to come from him often.

“I’ll protect you,” he winks, “I’m a top hero, after all.”

Bonus:

You can’t suppress the grin on your face when Keigo bursts into your office, staring at you bewildered.

“Hi baby,” you grin.

He shoots you a betrayed glare, narrowing his eyes as he mumbles, “don’t hi baby me. What is this?”

“It’s a picture,” you pretend to carefully study the photo on his screen as he turns his phone to face you, “of you. Surely you know what your own face looks like, Keigo.”

“I know it’s a picture of me, but my point is why did you post it?”

“To make things official?” You raise a brow, looking at him like it’s obvious. He huffs, slumping onto the chair across from your desk as he glowers. “You asked me to.”

“Yeah, so you decided to post a picture of me drooling in my sleep?”

“Hey, but look! I got your good side!” You point out enthusiastically, giving him an innocent smile.

It’s a dangerous smile. Keigo is too weak to keep his angry facade up as soon as you shoot him that look, deflating as he rubs his temples.

“You couldn’t have picked a more flattering picture?”

“I think you look rather cute,” you tease, humming as you grab his hand across the table, rubbing over his knuckles. He grumbles, looking away as he tries his best to hide the red flush that blooms across his cheeks.

“This is the worst. You’re supposed to improve my image, you know.”

“I am,” you gasp in defense, “I’m making you look sweet and adorable. The people will love it. Now go get back to work and stop distracting me from mine.”

“Can’t you please delete it and post something else—”

“See you later! Mwah!”

You wave him away with a blown kiss, and he stares at you miserably before sighing in defeat, slinking out of your office with a glum look at you over his shoulder.

You wink as your eyes meet briefly—and there’s a lot more pictures you’re hope he’s prepared to have of himself published.

I have not watched or read bnha in over a year so have mercy on me I am still remembering/figuring out how to characterize hawks but. What I do have figured out is. I want to ****** *** **** ***** ** *** 😇

[shariasweet]

die for me. ᡣ𐭩°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

lee heeseung x fem reader — actress!reader. smut [18+]. pet names. fingering [f]. kissing. unprotected sex [wrap it up!]. public or leaked sex [tape or video].

sharia note — I dunno :( I got bored and this is let of rambley 💔 i really like that new chase atlantic song and I felt a little inspired so !!!

you clenched your jaw — fingers digging into you scalp as you let out an aggrieved sigh. ‘how’re you going to solve this , y/n?’ your managers voice blared through your phone’s speaker as you anxiously paced your condo floor. 

‘im not sure…’ your teeth sunk into your bottom lip , and you let your fingers trail down to your temples — soothing the oncoming headache. ‘at this point , you two’d be better off bringing your relationship to the public. I mean , your fans may not get along but it’s better than dealing with the media snooping around.’ 

you and your boyfriend had just been caught — the news made headlines: reports from entertainment tonight and koreaboo with titles such as ‘actress y/n l/n & singer lee heeseung caught in a dating scandal.’ — ‘lee heeseung and y/n l/n caught in a scandal: sex tape leaked.’ fled your timeline.

‘would it?’ you pursed your lips , throwing yourself onto your bed. you’d told him to be more careful — heeseung had a bad habit of being careless when he gets needy. his head gets clouded by his own desires , and he loses himself in you. 

‘not here!’ you breathlessly whined into your boyfriends ear as he cornered you on the set. ‘why not , pretty girl..?’ he chuckled , hands cupping your cheeks as he smiled against your lips. ‘there are cameras , hee… we’re on set…’ you quickly pecked his lips , returning the embrace with your arms snaked around his neck.

however , he was quicker — capturing you in a deep passionate kiss. you moaned into his mouth upon feeling his knee come up to grind against your core. ‘ah… fuck!’ you gasped , allowing him to slip his tongue into the gaping warmth of your mouth.

heeseung’s hands desperately fought against the buttons and clasps of your outfit , ‘so many damn zippers… ‘need to feel you.’ he groaned , large hands coming up to knead your breasts. ‘you looked so beautiful all day… ‘couldn’t even focus between scenes — want to get this stupid shoot over with. ‘been waiting all day to touch you…’ 

finally , his fingers tangled between your shirts buttons — undoing them leaving your chest bare. it wasn’t long before his hands slipped under your skirt too — he quickly disregarded it , swiftly unzipping it all while trailing hot kisses down your chest.

‘such a pretty girl… my , pretty girl. ‘want to tell the whole world your mine — makes me sick thinking there’re guys seeing you how I do.’ heeseung sighed against your skin , softly rutting his nose into your collarbones to inhale your scent.

‘hah… how do you see me , baby?’ teasingly , you brought a hand to tangle into his hair as he continued revashing your neck and chest. the vibrations of his deep laughter spread across your skin and you could feel the feather light touches of heeseung’s fingers reaching for the band of your panties. ‘most beautiful girl in the world.’ pop! he snapped the band against your waist.

‘mmm!’ you squirmed. this tips of his fingers caressed your clit through the thin cotton material — occasionally , pinching the soft bundle of nerves as he continued complimenting you. ‘I just want to be with you all the time… I’d live under you if I could… so fucking pretty for me — sweet too. you’re such a good girl , letting me play with you in the studio too.’ 

his free hand massaged your boobs — tugging at your bra to roll your nipples between his rough fingers.

‘ah! shit… hee touch me more… please , give me more.’ heeseung’s fingers began to pull your panties to the side — carefully , dipping two of his fingers into the drooling heat of your sticky cunt — leaking all onto his fingers. as he curled his two fingers inside of you his thumb gently circled your clit. ‘mmm!!! feels so good..!’ 

‘I know princess… I know.’ he continued to thrust his fingers upward inside of you , in a  scissoring motion. your hands came down to his fly — fidgeting with the zipper of his pants. ‘eager already?’ your boyfriend grinned , cheekily. ‘just take them off… ‘want it now…’ 

‘not here hee!’ he mimicked your earlier pleas. ‘please…’ you sighed — gummy walls clamping down onto his fingers as they roughly kissed the spongy spot buried between them. ‘you sure , pretty girl..?’ he teased you some more. 

feverishly , you nodded. his free hand left the hardened nubs of your nipples to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. leaving him clad in his boxers before you , as he ripped his fingers from your sopping cunt.

you whined feeling empty. ‘unhhh… hee hurry!’ 

you didn’t have to ask twice before your boyfriend was yanking down his boxers to free his leaking cock — standing straight up as the angry pink mushroom tip stared back at you. you could feel your mouth watering , however , any fantasy you’d conjured up had been interrupted by heeseung abruptly grabbing both of your thighs , lifting you up and positioning himself at your entrance.

he slammed you down onto his cock as you let out a loud mewl. he’d bottomed out in no time , easily assisted by your oozing , slimy slick. ‘shittt! ah ah ahn hee! so fucking full…’ you murmured , arms flying to hold onto his back.  ‘mmm… my pretty baby’s always so tight.’ he threw his head back. ‘s a good thing you get so wet though.’ he grinned diving into your lips hungrily , before thrusting up into you.

he wildly snapped his hips as you let soft vulgarities and outlandish moans rip past your throat. ‘fuck , more!’ 

‘m-more..? god , y/n you want me dead , huh?’ obliging , your boyfriend pistoned his cock further between your silken walls. ‘promise im close! promise!!!’ a ring of white cream and arousal pooled around the base of his cock as he continued to deliciously thrust into your cunt. ‘you know I love hearing you whine , sweetheart! j-just hold on… ‘m close too!’

the knot in your stomach finally snapped as he made one final thrust — leaving you shaking and you rode out your high calling out his name.

everyone had seen it — obviously… if not you wouldn’t be in your current situation: stressing over the phone with your manager lecturing you — heeseung lying in your bed with a sly grin on his face. ‘would it?’ you repeated , glancing at your boyfriend who simply shrugged mouthing the words ‘I couldn’t help it.’ as you rolled your eyes and  fell back into his arms. 

‘it’s worth a shot… I’ll send a message over to his team. just lay low for now y/n and pray they’ll be on board.’ they huffed , ending the call. 

‘well… on the bright side , told you I wanted to tell the whole world you were mine.’ he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. ‘oh whatever , hee! we’re in deep shit.’

[euphorajeon]

'make it right' with jk for the 1k celebration pleeeaaaasssseeee 🫶

light of the morning

— request: jeongguk + make it right - bts

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, angst

— word count: 2.7k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, mild angst, they're best friends, insecurities and self-doubt thoughts.

— summary: in the eternal night that seems endless, jeongguk finds his peace in the light of the morning.

— author's note: hi anon! thanks for requesting :) summary is obviously inspired by the lyrics of make it right, which i used as the general inspiration for the story. i hope it doesn't stray too far from what you had in mind, hehe. enjoy!

a continuation of opposite of sun. i suggest to read that first before reading this!

masterlist

‘Jeongguk Takes Over Times Square With a Surprise Performance’

‘Massive Crowd Gathers In Times Square for a Jeongguk Surprise Performance’

‘Jeongguk Surprises Times Square Crowd With a Free Concert’

It’s been a day since Jeongguk’s surprise performance at Times Square, and the media headlines praising his performance just keep flooding in. In the articles, there were no flaws in his performance. Impeccable. Perfect. The media especially highlighted the way his fans only got a 30-minute notice before the performance, yet they were able to fill up the streets of Times Square. They were loud, singing along to his songs word for word, and Jeongguk is so proud.

The praises didn’t only come from online articles, they also came from the radio hosts and interviewers who were lined up in Jeongguk’s schedule today. It’s refreshing to answer questions outside of the usual ‘What’s your favorite food to eat in the US?’ and about his surprise performance instead. Jeongguk is grateful that his manager, Namjoon, scheduled these interviews after the performance instead of before it.

“Do I have any more interviews for today?” Jeongguk asks Namjoon, peeking at the clock on his phone. It’s only a little after seven in the evening. He knows it’s a silly question to ask, already knowing the answer by the look on Namjoon’s face.

“You have two more, actually,” Namjoon answers regardless. “Plus taping for two songs for one of them. I thought you knew this already?”

“Uh, yeah, just making sure.” Jeongguk clears his throat, eyes still on his phone.

“You’ve been checking your phone a lot today. Something wrong?” Namjoon inquires, a worried look replacing the duh one he had on his face earlier.

“No. Everything’s okay.”

Yes, something is very wrong.

It’s been more than a day since he video-called you, a little over a day since his performance at Times Square, and little less than a day since he texted you the YouTube link of said performance. In that time frame, his phone is completely void of any notification from you. No texts, no calls, even no tweets or an Instagram DM. You’ve been totally silent and it’s starting to get on his nerves. Why are you leaving him in the dark?

“You sure? You look like you want to punch someone.”

What he wants is praise from you! No, he doesn’t want it, he needs it. All the flowery words from the media and radio hosts mean nothing if he hasn’t heard one from you. Ever since he started his singing career, your opinion has always been one of the first ones he seeks. Without it, he’s lost. Left wondering whether his performance deserved the accolades, or they were only for his pretty face.

“Jeongguk, we’re here. Put a mask on and smile. You can worry about your best friend later,” Namjoon says the moment the car comes to a stop in the parking lot of a building somewhere in New York. Jeongguk looks at him as he’s getting off the vehicle, confused. His manager throws him a small smile. “Don’t look like that, it’s kinda obvious you’re thinking about her.”

“I haven’t heard from her since yesterday, hyung,” Jeongguk sighs. “I have the right to be worried.”

“You’re not the only one with stuff to do, you know? Maybe she’s busy too. I’m sure she’s fine,” Namjoon tries to reassure him. “Give her a call after this, to ease your mind.”

Namjoon is right. You’re probably busy juggling midterms and your part-time job back home. The chasm he felt yesterday opens back up, gaping to remind him that you two are worlds apart. Superstar Jeongguk who replies to texts in seven business days has no right demanding a reply from a regular college student after only one day.

Two more interviews. Two more songs to perform. Then he can hear your voice, see your face, and everything is going to be okay again.

Jeongguk finishes his schedule for the day a little after 1 AM. He tries to call you in the car, on the way back to his hotel. No answer. Tries again when he reaches his hotel room. Then tries again after he showered and changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in.

Ten missed calls.

Jeongguk goes to sleep with a dark cloud in his mind, completely restless.

In the morning, when the sun is already up—the way the moon is in Seoul, where you are—Jeongguk cracks his eyes open to stare at the ceiling in his room, his heart still heavy with worry. Also heavy is his head when he sits up on his huge hotel bed, likely due to his tossing and turning in his sleep all night. It doesn’t help that his lockscreen is still void of notifications labeled with your name. You’ve been MIA for almost two full days. Where are you?

He sends seven more bubbles in your chatroom, a sigh slipping past his lips when the tiny word under the blue bubble only reads delivered. He’s on his last thread of hope when he clicks on your contact picture to video call you, and that thread snaps when all he’s staring at on the screen is his own puffy and tired face.

Maybe he should order some breakfast. Get something to munch on, pry his mind away from the thought of you and what you’re up to in a country far, far away from where he is. He hopes you’re okay. He hopes you aced that midterm you were up until three to study for (although you spent the good part of the last hour talking to him on FaceTime). He hopes you’re eating well and not some instant cup ramyeon or shitty take-out from the Chinese place by your apartment that you frequent because it’s cheap.

After skimming through the room service menu, Jeongguk places an order of breakfast enough to feed five people. (What? He needs his energy. And a distraction.) The kind hotel staff who took his order informed him that his food will be ready in around 20 minutes. Good. Plenty of time to track his schedule for today and not think about you. (So much for a distraction.)

As it turns out, his itinerary for today is not packed with work schedule. Namjoon had only written ‘Explore’ along with a note to bring the camera noona who usually follows Jeongguk around to film all of his adventures as an idol. Said “adventure” is typically limited to dressing rooms of music shows, though. Oh, maybe Namjoon wants him to stroll around the city and make a vlog out of it, give his fans a little peek of what he does in his down time in New York.

In order to do that, he has to shower, get dressed, and maybe get his makeup done. He definitely needs to get his hair done, though, there’s no way he’s going out with this bird nest atop his head. Or maybe he could go natural, let his hair breathe for the day. Namjoon said it makes him look like a college boyfriend, and apparently, his fans love the look. Throw some hoodie and jeans on, and Jeongguk would be ready to go to class with you.

Ah, you again.

His mindless scrolling on Twitter in procrastination halts, the words on his phone not registering as his mind goes back to you. What would it feel like to go to class with you? To watch your focused face in class, trying to absorb knowledge from the professor? To be there next to you, answer your question whenever you struggle to grasp a concept? To be your college boy—

A knock on his door interrupts his thoughts.

Jeongguk stills, waits for the shout of room service! to follow, but it never comes. The clock on his phone tells him it’s only been 10 minutes since he ordered breakfast, so maybe it’s not room service after all. Maybe it’s a staff member, coming to tell him to get ready for the day.

As Jeongguk makes his way to the door, come some more knocks, this time more tentative than the one prior. Before he could reach the door, the person on the other side speaks.

“Jeongguk..?” It sounds muffled by the door, but the voice rings familiar in his ears. It’s the voice he last heard almost two days ago, via a video call connection between New York and Seoul. Could it be? No, it couldn’t … right?

Jeongguk’s eyes are right in front of the peephole just as the voice sounds again: “It’s me, Bun…”

There, in front of his hotel door, stands a girl 15 centimeters shorter than him, dressed in black jeans and her favorite sage green sweater, with a lump of black fabric hanging off her left arm. A faded black baseball cap sits on her head, so faded it looks almost navy. When she finally looks up to peek at the peephole, Jeongguk loses his breath.

It’s you. It’s really you.

Jeongguk is so stunned that he’s frozen in place, just staring at your confused expression that slowly morphs into one of anxiety.

“Did Namjoon give me the wrong room number..?” you mumble, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Jeongguk has never yanked a door open that hard in his life.

You tear your eyes away from your phone, jumping in surprise at the sudden movement. His eyes lock with yours, and the shock on your face melts into a smile.

“Hi!”

You’re obviously exhausted, having just got off a 14-hour flight from Seoul, moving 13 timezones backward, seeing the sun when you’re supposed to see the moon. But the way you beam at him is full of glee, your eyes bright despite the obvious fatigue. Jeongguk is mesmerized.

Wordlessly, he reaches for your shoulders to pull you into a hug. They feel more prominent than the last time he hugged you, and he doesn’t know whether it’s from your haphazard eating schedule or just … time. He doesn’t remember when he last gave you a hug. Doesn’t remember the last time he saw you in the flesh like this.

“You just woke up, didn’t you?” you say from somewhere near his collarbone.

“Maybe,” Jeongguk mumbles. “Maybe not. I feel like I’m still dreaming.”

“Up in the clouds, are we?” you chuckle. “Well, if you’re done dreaming then maybe we could come in? Backpack’s starting to hurt my shoulders.”

It’s right at that second that Jeongguk just realizes the huge backpack hanging off your small frame. The poor bag is bursting at the seams, like it’s gonna comically explode if you even try to unzip it. Jeongguk closes his fingers around the small handle on top, testing the weight.

“Did you fit your whole life into this? Why is it so heavy?” he complains, immediately untangling your arms from his body so he can slide the backpack off you and onto him instead. “I feel like I’m about to do the 20 kilometers march in the military.”

“Hah! Try navigating JFK with that on your shoulders. It’s way harder than the military,” you huff, following Jeongguk into his hotel room.

He sets your backpack down on one of the couches, turning around to get answers to a thousand questions in his head, but pauses when he sees you’re still standing by the door. Your eyes are scanning the room slowly, stopping at Jeongguk to look at him with an unreadable expression on your face.

“What?” Jeongguk says.

“It’s huge,” you say. “The room, I mean. They usually are in your vlogs, but it’s different seeing it in person.”

This could turn into another conversation about their differences quickly, but Jeongguk is not in the mood to deal with distance today. For once, you’re an arms-length away from him. He doesn’t want to fuck this up and send you back to KST, 13 timezones away.

“Eh, I think your backpack is bigger.” He shrugs. Safe route, for now. “What do you have inside that bag, really?”

“My brick ass laptop, thank you,” you say sarcastically, finally going deeper into the room just to give your backpack a protective hug. “Still have a midterm to finish and submit here.”

“You still have midterms and you’re here in New York?” Jeongguk gapes. “Why?”

“Because you asked me to be here,” you state like it’s obvious. “Well, not like that, but you looked so sad on our last video call that I booked a flight here as soon as we hung up the call. Didn’t really realize the weight of it until I was watching your performance with Yeseo and I blurted out that I bought a ticket to New York and how maybe it was a stupid thing to do on a whim like that. She looked at me like I was stupid and said I should totally go. So. Here I am.”

If selective hearing is a sin, then Jeongguk would be guilty because he heard nothing beyond the part where you said you were watching his performance.

“You watched my performance?” He parrots his thoughts. “But you said you would have been asleep…”

“No sleep is worth my best friend’s sadness.” You throw him a small smile. “Actually, Yeseo set an alarm for it. And then I went to have the midterm with a terrible headache because I didn’t get enough sleep. But it’s worth it, the performance was amazing. You did great on that stage.”

“I did great…?”

At this point, Jeon Jeongguk should change his name to Parrot Jeongguk, because all he ever does is just repeat things he heard. First his thoughts, now you.

“Yes, of course you did great, Jeongguk. Wasn’t it obvious, the way your fans were screaming their lungs out for you?”

I only wanted to hear it from you, Jeongguk thinks. The media headlines and praises from the radio hosts and interviewers flash in his mind, all positive feedback for his performance, yet still planted a seed of doubt in his mind. It caused an ugly darkness to settle in his mind, one that worsened with every call you didn’t pick up.

“Why’d you ghost me, then?”

Way to ruin this moment, Jeon Jeongguk.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. Between catching up on sleep and rushing for the flight, I just didn’t have the time to look at my phone at all. Also, I was on the plane? It takes a long time to get here from Korea if you didn’t know.”

“So it’s not because my performance is bad?”

You get up from your position on the couch to grip him on the shoulders, your nails digging into the material of his t-shirt. You have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes, but you hold his gaze firmly like the position doesn’t hurt you at all.

“Jeon Jeongguk, listen to me. Your performance was great, you looked handsome, your singing was on-point, your high note was awesome, your dancing was super cool, and the crowd was really loud. I don’t know what kind of validation you seek, but I personally think everything about your performance was perfect.”

Yours. I only want your validation.

Slowly, the darkness in his mind begins to disperse, replaced by this warm beam of light piercing through the clouds. It settles in his mind like a blanket, protecting him from any more bad thoughts. He thinks it’s because of you, bringing light wherever you go. Can that light be shared with him? Will he glow from the inside out if he connects his lips with yours? Why does he want to lock lips with you?

“Jeongguk, are you okay? You look like you’re floating in the clouds again.”

Yeah. No. I want to press my lips against yours. Can I?

Three knocks sound from the door. And then: room service!

Jeongguk clears his throat (and his mind along with it.)

“Do you want to explore New York with me after we have breakfast?”

Jeongguk might want more, and he might be ready to admit it. After all, the light to his darkness is here. If not now, then when?

“Sure, it’ll be a fun best friend adventure!”

…maybe some other time.

a/n: thank you for reading! i'm planning to have a part 3 of this but let's see if i can actually find the time to write it ahah

[disneyprincemuke]

you don't get to tell me about sad * fem!driver

outtakes of her year that i didn't know where to fit lol so this is the last(ish) angst installment

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver

notes: iM BACK BABYYY

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

so she runs from her garage again. just another weekend where everything has skewed from what was discussed and there is no reasoning to be done.

she finished the race damn near last over a pitstop that ran longer than it should have.

the minute sebastian could not spew an excuse she would hear out was the minute she stopped listening to him during the race. and honestly, it was the only way she could salvage not finishing last of the pack.

“let’s talk about it,” sebastian says, hurriedly chasing her down as she storms into the racing home, her presence immediately silencing the chatter in the room. “let me talk you through what happened. it’s not your fault.”

“i know it’s not!” her distress is made known, echoing in the air of the room. she stops in her tracks and turns to face sebastian still by the door, flinching back. “how could that be my fault? i was doing my end of the bargain as a driver!”

he takes a deep breath. “rocky, just listen to me, okay?”

“it’s not fair! none of this weekend was my fault!” she shrieks, turning back around and trudging up the stairs loudly. “the team fucked me over, that’s what happened! i can’t possibly think of a reason you could come up with to excuse what happened!”

“i’m not excusing it, i’m just–”

“oh, god, sebastian!” she stomps her foot on the ground to demand sebastian’s attention. which surprisingly works. “just admit it — the team fucked me over. point blank period, that’s literally what happened.”

sebastian sucks in a deep breath. “yes, we did. and we’re extremely sorry. but–”

“’but’ again,” she laughs dryly, rolling her eyes. she makes a sharp turn for her driver’s room and holds a hand up to stop the step he tries to take towards her. “take your apology to the headlines being drafted about me as we go in circles over this, sebastian.”

“you know i’m not breaking up with you,” matt says amidst the silence that they’ve been sitting in as he packs his bag. “i just need a break.”

“from me,” she points out shakily, dropping her head low.

“from this cycle.” he lifts his head and sits back to look at her.

she sits on the edge of her bed, feet hovering slightly over the floor. she watches her feet swing slightly, counting in her head, desperate not to lose the last remaining sanity she feels she has.

initially, she sat in the vacant room in tears, refusing to watch him pack up to leave her all alone in her apartment. she wallowed in her woes in a dark corner before she eventually dragged herself back into her bedroom.

she’s been sitting here watching him in silence ever since, trying to find the words in her head to say something to him.

maybe he’ll change his mind; maybe he’ll stay if she says the right thing.

“yeah, i get that.”

“i don’t think you do.” he stands from his position on the ground and walks over to her on the bed. he takes the empty spot next to her, resting his hand above hers that grips the mattress tightly. he feels her grip loosen slightly. “i still love you, bub.”

she shakes her head with a sigh. “i would have stopped a long time ago if i were you. i’m not very nice.”

“it doesn’t work like that,” he squeezes her hand, “you’re having a hard time. i get that and it’s okay. but i want you to want the help i’m giving you. i’m not going to force it on you if you’re just going to keep pushing me away when i try.”

“i don’t know why i keep doing that,” she admits with a scoff. she drops her back on the bed behind her and looks up at the ceiling of her bedroom. “i’m not usually like this, i promise. i’m better than this.”

“i know.” matt mirrors her actions and drops himself on the mattress.

she wants to say she’s sorry and that she’s thankful for him sticking around longer than he had to. it’s at the edge of her tongue but she simply cannot get herself to admit that she’s wrong. that perhaps this time, someone is finally right about her.

“do you, really?” she hums, “i’m the worst.”

“i think you should give yourself a little more credit,” he sighs, reaching out for her hand again. this time, she moves her hand away before he can grab it. “i’ll come home soon, okay? i’ll come back for you, i promise.”

she repeats in her head the gameplan she’d drafted with sebastian. the one that seemed so foolproof all weekend that made her believe she could turn it all around.

instead, she’s standing on the grass next to her wrecked car, another unfortunate mishap she’s sure would make her talk of the town again.

she puts her hands on her hips as her eyes trail over to her blown tyre. then she remembers that her crash wasn’t caused all by herself.

“are you alright?” charles asks softly, slowly approaching her as he takes his helmet off. “unlucky weekend.”

she glances over her shoulder where he approaches her. she forces a small grin to her face and tries to wave his concerns away. “i’m fine.”

her chest starts to hurt slightly, tears prickling at her eyes.

this is not the time and place to be breaking down. especially not at someone like charles because surely, something went wrong with her that caused this.

“it’s my fau–”

surely, it can’t be his fault. there’s no way that the person she’s looked up could cause this crash.

but there’s also a voice in her head telling her to believe charles. he wouldn’t be apologising if he didn’t actually think that he caused it.

“unfortunate,” she chuckles. she swallows the scream threatening to make itself known and shrugs at charles. “i’ll see you in the paddocks, mate.”

“thought i might find you here.”

“fuck off, max.”

the older driver laughs, walking over to her with hands in the pocket of his jeans. he drops himself on the little platform she’s resting on.

“everyone’s looking for you,” max chuckles, innocently taking a sip from his water bottle. “i heard seb panicking and sending out a search party to get you.”

“i know,” she snorts, “i heard him screaming and delegating people to find me.”

the only reason max knew where to find her is because he is the one who introduced her to this place. he had found her holding her tears in at some point last season walking around the paddocks and he whisked her away without another word.

it’s a pretty obscure location in the paddocks, one that max often resided in when it got too chaotic and loud. she’s the only one he’s ever given this sort of information to.

“how’s everything?” he asks with a sigh, leaning back on the wall behind them. “matt flew back to the states already?”

she nods and drops her head, picking at the grass beneath them. while she truly tried to keep her problems to herself, max approached her a week prior when he saw her entering the paddocks all by herself.

he had asked why the man, typically found on her arm every race weekend, was not with her today.

she softly admitted that they’re on a break, prompted by her reactionary behaviour from how her year is going so far. still, she tries to keep the confession minimal.

it’s hard enough to watch your boyfriend pack his things in silence to leave you behind. it’s even harder to admit that there’s nobody else to blame but yourself.

her mishaps every weekend on the paddocks, she can point all the fingers she wants. but when it came to her matt, there was nobody else she could pin it on. there were 2 people in that relationship and she knows that she’s the one that’s burned it down.

“i’m so sorry,” max sighs, resting his cheek in his hand. he props his elbow on his knee as she leans forward. “that must be really hard for you.”

she shrugs. it’s really not that big of a deal. or, at least, it shouldn’t be to somebody else in a happy relationship of his own. “it’s my fault, anyway. i don’t blame him.”

“you can still be upset about it,” he mutters. “i know you love him, so i don’t imagine any of this is making you feel better at all.” he puts a hand on her back and rubs circles, something he honestly wishes someone had done for him when he was younger. “it’s just me, mate.”

“it’s alright, but thanks for trying to be there for me,” she grimaces, turning momentarily to give him a small smile. “but i don’t reckon i get to feel bad for deliberately pushing him over the edge.”

she’d been fine all day. she thought she was genuinely getting better: she’d even gone for a walk in the sun and felt enlightened most of the hours she’d been awake.

that was until she had sat down at her dining table with dinner, consumed whole by the silence and emptiness of her apartment. without understanding why, she lost her appetite as her stomach started to churn.

her heart feels like it’s skipping beats from how unwell she suddenly felt.

she finds herself on the floor of her bedroom, phone pressed up against her ear as the ringing pulls her in and out of her trance.

her world has spinning for the better part of 5 minutes, her chest feeling like it’s closing in on itself and the framed picture in her peripheral vision taunts her.

there’s no climbing out of this rut; she’s almost sure she will be stuck in here forever. she either lives with the fact that she’s a failure or it’ll someday kill her.

“hello? is this really you?”

tears she hadn’t realised were there start to fall out of her eyes. the sob she didn’t know she had in her throat fills the room as she drops her head into her other hand.

“i don’t know why i called,” she pauses with a soft sob, “sorry, i should go.”

“no,” a firm voice demands, “just stay on the line.”

“okay.”

she had just spoken with matt this morning, on a short 5-minute welfare check video call. she told him she was feeling slightly better with the biggest smile on her face.

now she doubts herself if she’d even meant it. if she was truly better, she wouldn’t be here on the floor feeling worse than when she woke up this morning.

going backwards isn’t supposed to be the way she’s going.

it’s always forward. if there’s no progress towards the betterment of her situation, then she’s simply not trying hard enough.

she should try harder. it’s the only way.

“hey,” matt coos softly to catch her attention. “if you need me there, just say the word. i’ll come home.”

she wants to say yes. she even wants to break into a louder sob and admit that she misses him; probably might even be going crazy without his presence as of late.

she hasn’t got anything figured out.

but instead, she says, “i’ll be okay.”

being alone in her hotel room is the last thing she wanted for herself, the silence too overbearing for her to handle. though asking to hang out with her friends she watched leave together to get dinner wasn’t an option either.

so she opted to lock herself in her driver’s room until someone chases her out. perhaps she’ll sleep over without anybody finding out.

she’d coddled herself up in her beanbag under a blanket, reading away furiously on the things people said about her.

sure, she shouldn’t be on these sites speaking ill of her, but there’s nobody to stop her. she’s fallen down the rabbit hole of everyone’s opinions of her once more and she can’t seem to stop.

she’s stooped even lower this time: she’s on social media reading what the public has to say about her.

it’s not just about whoever in the industry is saying now.

she never tried to let anyone’s opinion of her, in forms of tweets and social media posts, get to her much.

but a post highlighting about the two mere instances where she had unintentionally lashed out on matt in the paddocks did it for her. and the one time she had a disagreement with sebastian in her racing home after a pitstop mishap.

“for fuck’s sake,” she cries, throwing the blanket off her.

she can’t throw her ipad. she starts to heave, feeling it all coming down on her once more.

she grabs the closest thing to her. and unfortunately, it’s the very mug she’d gotten 2 years ago as a present for sebastian.

you know, the matching mugs she got as a celebration for scoring points as a race engineer and driver duo on the grid.

and it does what a mug would do if you threw it against the wall: it shatters. into pieces.

it’s repairable if she really thought about it rationally. the handle has popped out along with another large piece straying by its side.

only then she realises what she’s done.

“oh, fuck.” she sits hurriedly and brushes the stray hairs from her face. “oh, no.”

she scrambles from the ground and runs over to the other side of the room where her favourite mug sits in 3 separate pieces, tears prickling at her eyes as she realises what she’s done.

she gathers it into her hands with a heavy cry, dropping her hands into her lap. if she’d known sooner that this mug was what she’d grabbed out of fury, she wouldn’t have chucked it across the room.

“come on,” she whispers to herself, trying to fit the pieces together as if it would magically mend itself. “fix yourself. be a mug again?”

“i thought you were back at the hotel– are you okay?”

“i didn’t mean to do it,” she cries at the familiar voice and accent, lifting her head and hands to show him what she’s done. “i didn’t mean to, i didn’t even realise what i was throwing until it broke into this many pieces.”

“hey,” sebastian coos, softly closing the door behind him. he walks over to where she kneels on the ground and grabs her shoulder. “you’re okay. it’s okay.”

she shakes her head profusely and rests her head on his shoulder. “i didn’t mean it. i didn’t want to break it — i still like you, i promise. you’re like my dad when we’re on the road. i’m s– i didn’t mean it.”

“relax.” he squeezes her shoulder, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. “it’s just a mug. we’ll just get a new one, okay? don’t even worry about it.”

he waits for a second as she processes his words, slightly hesitant to agree with him. she nods slowly, “are you sure? you’re not mad?”

“i’m not mad,” sebastian hums with a smile. “let’s get you back to your hotel room, okay? i was just about to head out.”

“okay.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[csuitebitches]

On Becoming Well Read

Why is it important to be well read or well informed?

We tend to gravitate towards people who we find interesting. A fear that most of us have is that we’re not interesting enough.

“What if I don’t make any friends because they think I’m boring?”

“What if I don’t know what to say at that date and he ghosts me?”

“I have no idea what this person is talking about, but I’ll pretend like I do.”

“God, I wish I had done some more research before coming here. I feel so dumb.”

In order to combat such feelings, we need to actually address them and work on them.

It’s not that you’re boring or plain. It’s just that you may not have expanded your horizon enough.

Here are some things that I do:

1. Read 3 academic articles a month (this month I’m reading on parenting, globalisation and urban riots). Annual review is a great resource. The articles I’m reading aren’t more than 30 pages long.

2. Read the news every single day. I have 13 different news apps that I use. You don’t need to use so many (I just like being informed in what’s happening in my country, the world, and certain specific nations). Start by reading just the headlines everyday.

3. My brain likes reading about fashion, lifestyle, exotic travel as well. I refer to CNA Luxury’s website for that.

4. If you don’t like reading, watch videos instead. YouTube is a vast resource. Look for TED videos, Cold fusion, Slidebean, Circle of Life, History Matters, Ted Ed, Absolute History.

Here are some topics I think are interesting / you can research on:

* your country’s history

* Basic international history and some of the most notable/ infamous events

* Classic literature

* Architecture basics

* Interior aesthetics

* Famous people and families in your country

* Prominent CEOs, politicians and personalities

* Start ups and industries that are becoming popular

* Small talk

* Jewellery - stones, metal types, settings

* Massages - best pressure points

* Real estate - structure deals, buying and selling homes

* Economics - rates and what they mean

* Philosophy basics and notable figures

* Alcohol basics - how is French wine different from Italian, why is champagne called champagne, what is the most popular drink in every country?

* Lesser known communities and tribes

Based on how well this article is being received, I'm thinking of creating a free newsletter, with content like this. Sign up here! Launch on 8th January, 2033.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 NOBODY KNOWS kim minji x reader

👛★ ͘ ⴰ ever since summer 2022 new jeans has been at the top of the world surpassing and creating records and getting biggger and better every month but then SM Entertainment drops a new girl group stardom out of knowhere on everyone’s heads “surpassing and creating records” just like a certain group, causing a rivalry in the media and between the groups behind closed doors.

in which behind the secret of rivalry between stardom and new jeans, there’s an even bigger secret between their leaders.

PARING — kim minji x idol!reader

last. masterlist. next

★ ͘ PAGE#1 nobody knows — ❝tonight let’s start a masquerade, I’m coming over but nobody knows my little secret ❞

“the rising sensation, stardom, is adding yet another major endorsement to their growing portfolio, now becoming ambassadors for Sony. they’re set to release a special line of headphones with the iconic brand, already racking up over 100,000 pre-orders—and counting.”

a groan came from beside minji, drawing her amused gaze toward the source of irritation.

“we’re listening to the radio! since when did radio news start caring about stardom’s endorsements?” hanni muttered, rolling her eyes. “that’s not news.”

stardom's name had been everywhere lately, dominating headlines as they skyrocketed to fame.

“they’re still not bigger than us,” minji said, patting hanni’s shoulder as she adjusted her seatbelt. “so why does it matter?”

“they have their own sony headphones, minji.”

“ahh, they have it in purple ,” hyein murmured from the seat behind, eyes glued to her phone.

hanni shot her a sharp glare, haerin pinched her arm, and danielle threw her a disapproving look.

“sorry,” hyein mumbled, shrinking back.

“i just want one day where i don’t have to hear about them,” hanni sighed, her frustration clear as the other girls nodded in agreement. “it’s bad enough they’re performing tomorrow, too.”

“how about see them everywhere,” minji chuckled, gesturing out the window at a bus stopped next to their van. plastered along the side was an ad for pocari sweat, featuring stardom smiling brightly for yet another endorsement.

“ugh”

“rate how shady you think they’re gonna be tomorrow, out of ten ,” summer asked, turning to face the rest of the girls lounging in the back of the van, while eunjin quietly flipped through the pages of her book beside her.

“eight point five ,” yuri replied, lifting her head from yn’s shoulder, causing the van to erupt in laughter.

“I was gonna say nine, but I’m bumping it to ten,” hana chimed in, mischievously kicking the back of eunjin’s seat, sending the girl jolting forward. “i don’t trust that hyein girl. she’s always staring at me.”

“oh, you wanna talk about staring? let’s talk about their leader, who’s always staring at our leader,” yuri said, rolling her eyes. “sometimes, i feel like she’s just gonna jump and eat yn, it’s probably all that jealousy.”

yn playfully rolled her eyes at yuri’s comment. “i’ll go with a seven. that sunshine girl can’t do any harm,” she said, finally answering summer’s question.

“i dare them to say something slick,” summer added, turning back to the front with a smirk. “what do you think?” she nudged eunjin, who sighed in response.

all eyes shifted to eunjin—whenever she spoke, the girls paid attention. she didn’t say much, so when she did, they hung onto every word.

“jealousy is a nasty thing. it eats away at you. and they’ve definitely got it,” eunjin replied, calm and thoughtful. “so yeah, i’m with yuri—eight point five.”

a slow clap broke the silence. “bravo, the wise words of eunjin unnie,” yuri teased, making the others chuckle.

the sound of screams and clapping filled the air as minji watched stardom walk onto the stage to receive their award. both newjeans and stardom had been up for artist of the year in japan, and while everyone kind of knew stardom would win— even though it was just a year into their career the girls had been dominating asia—it didn’t stop the girls from feeling a bit salty

"at least we still have the western market," danielle muttered quietly, just loud enough for the girls to hear. they all watched as stardom struggled to start their speech over the deafening cheers and applause.

"they're probably coming for that too," hanni replied, trying to keep her face neutral, fully aware of the cameras trained on them. with the ongoing internet war between newjeans and stardom, their reactions would undoubtedly make headlines. "right, minji?"

hanni glanced at their leader, expecting a response, but minji was silent. her gaze was locked on the stage, fixed on stardom's leader, yn, who was the last to deliver her thank you. yn's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, like crystals catching the stage lights—so captivating, it was impossible to look away. yuri gently wrapped an arm around yn’s waist, offering quiet comfort, which caused minji to slightly clench her jaw, while the other members leaned in supportively as yn spoke.

"thank you to our fans, to everyone who's believed in us," yn's voice trembled slightly, thick with emotion. "we wouldn't be here without you. this award means the world to us... and we promise to keep working harder."

as she finished her speech, the cheers erupted again, louder than ever, but minji hardly noticed. she was still mesmerized, completely taken by yn’s beauty and the way she seemed to glow under the stage lights. hanni glanced at minji again and saw the way she stared, almost hypnotized by stardom's leader.

"dude, are you okay?" hanni asked, raising an eyebrow.

minji blinked, snapping out of her daze, her face suddenly flushing. "what—uh, yeah, i'm fine," she stammered, her voice a little too quick.

hanni narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced but chose to let it slide. "okay..." she mumbled, though her suspicion lingered as she turned back toward the stage. minji's weirdness wasn’t something she was going to ignore forever.

yn linked her arm with yuri’s as they strolled through the hallway, trying to track down their managers. “leave it to us to get lost,” she sighed, glancing around with a hint of amusement.

“who cares that we’re lost? we just won artist of the year! everybody celebrate!” hana exclaimed, jumping onto eunjin’s back, earning a startled yelp from the quieter girl.

"we’re going to a sushi restaurant and eating everything," yuri chimed in, her tone playful as she squeezed yn's arm.

the girls were so caught up in their laughter and excitement that they didn’t notice another group walking toward them from the opposite direction.

summer, still laughing at hana almost slipping off eunjin's back, wasn’t paying attention and kept walking backward—until she crashed into someone with a hard thud. the hallway suddenly fell silent as everyone froze.

“ow!”

“oh, i’m so sor—” summer started to apologize, but her words faltered the moment she realized who she’d bumped into. “—ry,” she finished awkwardly, eyes locking with hyein from newjeans.

hyein’s eyes flashed with recognition, but she quickly masked it, shrugging off summer’s apology as if it were nothing. her gaze briefly flickered to hana, who had slid off eunjin’s back under the weight of the tense moment, though she averted her eyes as hana shot her an icy glare.

hanni stepped forward, her expression hardening as she glared at the five girls. her eyes locked onto summer. “you should be sorry. maybe watch where you’re going. hyein’s already had an injury—we don’t need another.”

summer’s eyebrows shot up, clearly not liking the tone. she glanced behind her, almost in disbelief, as if confirming hanni had really spoken to her like that. a dry laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head. “i know you’re not serious—”

eunjin gently placed a hand on summer’s shoulder, a silent plea to drop it. “leave it alone.”

yn stepped in, her voice calm but firm. “summer unnie, just let it go.”

but hanni wasn’t done. “what? i was just reminding your member to watch where she’s going. what’s the problem?” she snapped back, the situation wasn’t serious but she couldn’t hold back her resentment towards the girl group so she used this as an opportunity.

hanni didn’t back down, her focus now shifting to yn. “maybe your leader can explain it, so you understand better.” she said coolly, her challenge clear.

yn did exactly what summer had done—looked behind herself in disbelief—before she took a step forward, but yuri’s arm quickly wrapped around her waist, pulling her back. "leave it.” yuri whispered, though yn’s eyes were still locked on hanni's, before switching to minji’s who looks away.

“you’re right.” yn said her voice calm, “they’re just bitter.” she says her eyes still on minji before walking straight past the rest of the group the rest of the girls following behind her.

“you two,” yuri muttered, shaking her head as she pointed at yn and summer, “need serious anger management.”

yn cursed under her breath as her phone buzzed softly, hoping it didn’t wake yuri, who was fast asleep beside her in the hotel bed. glancing at the screen, she saw the message

she looked at the message.

“I’m near your hotel.”

she sighed quietly, running a hand through her hair before carefully sliding out of bed, moving cautiously so as not to disturb hana, who was sprawled out in a starfish position on the other bed.

with a quick glance around to make sure no one stirred, yn slipped out of the hotel room as quietly as possible and made her way down to the street outside, her heart racing with anticipation.

"hey."

minji looked up from her phone to find yn standing in front of her, a juicy couture cap pulled low over her head. minji couldn’t help but smile. "hey."

"you texted," yn said softly, her eyes scanning minji's face as if searching for something.

"i did."

"so..."

"i missed you," minji admitted, gently pulling yn closer by the arm. yn’s eyes dropped, her cheeks flushing as she looked away, clearly flustered.

"same," yn mumbled, clearly embarrassed. after a pause, she added, "your member really wanted to pick a fight today, huh?"

minji groaned, rolling her eyes as she tugged yn even closer, until there was almost no space left between them. "yeah..." she trailed off, unsure what to say. it wasn’t like she fully agreed with her group's dislike toward stardom, but she understood the frustration. stardom had come out of nowhere, sweeping up all the attention.

"let’s not talk about that," minji murmured, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the gold “s” necklace hanging around yn's neck. all of the stardom girls had one, each in either silver or gold.

minji’s tone shifted as she changed the subject. "there’s this 24 hour ramen place..." she started, watching as a smile slowly spread across yn’s face. "if you want to…"

"of course i do," yn replied, her smile now fully blooming, the tension between them melting away.

[astonmartingf]

HAVEN'T MET YOU YET ; JB22

jenson button x fem!reader

. . . slowing down as the high life of the party, jenson turns a new leaf and thinks optimistically about his plans in the future concerning his love life.

amgf finally moving the last couple works 😭 i definitely procrastinated moving these because they're so long and quite frankly i chose to study than move these but now i have time, i can't escape i need to do this for the alo fic to be posted

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

Frozen in front of his hotel room, muttering a string of curses to himself Jenson stood still tracing back the events that led him to this.

Making his way to the front door, Jenson was faced with an eager German and an Australian fellow trailing behind him. With raised brows, Jenson opened the doors wider letting both men inside.

“Are you coming with us tonight?” Sebastian, wasting no time, asked diving into his kept bed making Mark grimace.

“I’m actually choosing to stay in, rest early for tomorrow.” Jenson nods, convincing himself of his plans to stay in. This doesn’t go unnoticed as Sebastian shared a look with Mark before turning his head towards Jenson.

Uncharacteristically for the Briton, Webber expressed his confusion first with raised eyebrows, “You’re staying in? Why?”

Shrugging, Jenson pushes Seb to make space for himself. “I just don’t want to go outside, also there’s practice tomorrow. I don't want to go out for drinks.”

“Okay. we’re not necessarily going out for drinks. Just dinner, walking around the town, maybe a few light drinks here and there.” Sebastian sits up in an attempt to convince Jenson to come out with them. Noticing his reluctance the German looks up to Mark for support.

“Is this about the headlines about you?” Sebastian let out a small groan, brows furrowed directed towards Mark as he mouths “What about discreet do you not understand?”

Mark scoffs in reply, keeping his hands in his pockets, tired of the German’s antics. The exchange however left Jenson smiling to himself, which was a win for the two.

“Are you here to distract and cheer me up?”

Pressing his lip into a thin line in admittance, Sebastian looks over toward Jenson who’s been silent for quite some time.

Breaking the silence, Mark removes his hands from his pocket walking near to Jenson ina soft voice speaking, “If you don’t want to, you don’t-”

“I’ll go”

“Really?” Perking up, Sebastian hurried jumps off the bed pulling Jenson towards the front door.

“Okay we’re going now.” Hooking his arms to both men, Mark drags both of them outside.

Shit.

Exactly. Letting Sebastian and Mark drag him downtown for dinner was the plan, yet somehow the trio managed to lose each other as the night came, assuming the pair had gone over for drinks at some local bar. Jenson didn’t want to be associated with that, not at the moment that is.

Because as much as Jenson tried to hide it, their words were eating at him every time. And just like the rumors say, somewhere in between he believed them, and in turn began to question his own character.

Fuck.

Rubbing his eyes awake, Jenson looked around the hallway looking for anyone familiar who could help him. With no phone, no key card, and in a different country there’s no one he could truly contact to ask for help. Opting to sleep out on the hallways for the night, Jenson was on the verge of giving up.

“Excuse me, sir? Are you okay?”

English.

Jenson looks up, unsure if it was the jetlag, the light drinks, or the lack of sleep in his system but Jenson knew what was in front of him was an angel, his savior, he knew then and there he would give her everything- despite him not having anything at the moment.

“I’m not.” Stopping himself, Jenson chose his words carefully. Shocked at his own honesty, this was the first time he felt vulnerable. He can’t help but open up to such a beautiful stranger, even when he goes over his thoughts, everything is hazy.

“I’m locked out of my room with no phone, no wallet to even get a new one because my friends convinced me to go out. Not that I blame them, I was moping and being sad, and they had good intentions, I said I wouldn’t go out for drinks, and somewhere in between I lost them. I don’t know how I ended up back in the hotel, but I just want to sleep.” Jenson yawned in between his rant, leaning towards the wall, eyes drifting to sleep.

“Do you maybe want to sleep in my room?” Jenson turned his head, now you truly were his savior. But despite his excitement, Jenson couldn’t help but frown to himself.

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you. I’m sorry you had to sit with me on the floor, listening to me rant about my day.”

Chuckling you stood up in front of him, that’s when Jenson thought- he’d never have a chance with you. You were choosing to walk away, which is understandable since he was nothing but a mere stranger. To you, he could be lying just to find a way in your room, something he had done before.

Now he is crushed that karma has gotten back to him by letting him meet the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, when he’s on the lowest of lows and never to be seen again.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. Fortunately for you I happened to pass by you and your friends earlier, it’s Mark right?”

Grabbing your hand, Jenson laughs before introducing himself, “That’s my friend, I’m Jenson.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Jenson. I’m Y/N, I stay in the room at the end of the hallway. Let’s get you to sleep, I wouldn’t want you to end your night on such a sad note. Especially after your friends tried to cheer you up.”

“Thank you Y/N, you’re actually my savior.”

jensonbutton

liked by yourusername, aussiegrit, and 1,640,462 others

jensonbutton four months ago you met me and i was at my worst yet welcomed me with open arms.

staying with me when i was locked out of my hotel room, i thought of you as my savior and i remember saying that before falling asleep.

listening to my worries as a stranger, i didn't think we'd grow as friends and eventually lovers. since the day we met my day hasn't ended on such a sad note.

yourusername i love you and i'm glad to be a part of your life. i'm thankful that i'm with you now, and always.

view 857,248 comments...

aussiegrit i'm happy for you two 🤍

sebastianvettel aren't you glad we invited you out, or else you wouldn't have met each other

jensonbutton okay thank you seb and mark

aussiegrit you're acting like we were there, we literally left him alone in the middle of the night, i'm sorry jense

jensonbutton you dragged me out and left me, if it wasn't for y/n i would be sleeping in the hallway

sebastianvettel thank you yourusername you're cute together and i'm taking the credit ☺️

user1 wait jensey/n lore????

user2 i thought of you as my savior 😭😭😭 hello?

user3 it's always i love you and never "SINCE THE DAY WE MET MY DAY HASN'T ENDED ON SUCH A SAD NOTE" 🥹😤😭🥹😤😭😤🥹😭😤

user4 how are we feeling everyone?

user5 happy crying 😭😭😭

user6 MY PARENTS >>>>> i called it

user7 have y'all seen yn's post 🥹

user8 i love them your honor 🥲

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton and 98,734 others

yourusername four months, since the day i met you. in such a short time i've seen your highs and lows and even then i knew that i wanted to be with you.

you changed my life and i'm constantly proud of you, i won't stop reminding you on how deserving you are of every good thing in life.

you fill me with pride, joy, and i'm so lucky to be with you. since then i knew that i wouldn't let your night end on such a sad note.

jensonbutton i love you so much.

comments are limited by the user.

jensonbutton thank you for giving me a chance to show my love to you.

[harrysfolklore]

love on tour, forever - blurb

i watched harry’s video and got super inspired to write this, it’s definitely one of my favorite things i’ve done so i hope you like it 🥺

ALL GIFS ARE BY @delicatepointofview FOLLOW THEM FOR THE BEST GIFS EVER <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

“Do you think I should pack this?” you asked holding a video camera up, catching Harry’s attention.

“That would be great, love,” he said from the bed, watching you add the final items to your suitcase, “That way you can film me while I shower for when we’re apart.”

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes with affection and he smirked, “I’m filming special moments with this, you know, backstage moments your photographers don’t always catch.”

“Bummer,” he shrugged, making you roll your eyes at him again, “I’m just kidding love, that is a very lovely idea.”

“It’s settled then.” You smiled at him and put the camera in your suitcase, knowing that by the end of the tour, it would be filled with the most special and heartfelt moments.

“What are you doing down there, lovie?”

“Making sure I get all of your angles,” you shrugged, focused on your video camera, “Here’s the rockstar, getting his steps in before hitting the stage.”

He let out a laugh before you could catch a flash of mischief in his eyes, “You know, there’s another way I could get my cardio in.”

“Stop it, you’re on camera,” you held your finger up and gave him warning eyes, you were planing on showing this videos to his mom who couldn’t be with him all the time, and the last thing you wanted was her knowing abouthis shenanigans, “How are you feeling, nervous about tonight’s performance?”

“I feel good,” he said truthfully, “I’m excited to see everyone and sing our songs, but most importantly I’m excited to wear sparkly gear again.”

“There he is, there he is,” you couldn’t help but shake your head and smile, “I’m going to film the real stars of the show, Mitch and Sarah, so say bye.”

“Bye YN’s camera! Such a shame you’re not catching my post workout shower!”

“It’s negative!” Nyoh said as she entered the room, making everyone cheer and clap.

“We’re not sick! That deserves a happy dance!” Harry said as he stood up and danced goofily around the room, making everyone laugh at him.

Looking at your camera sitting at the table, you decided it was a golden moment you couldn’t afford to miss.

“Okay Ny-ny, could you hold your test up so everyone knows why this man-child is dancing like a fool,” Nyoh showed her test to the camera, laughing as you moved it to show Harry who kept on dancing, “Sometimes I don’t know if I’m dating an adult or a five year old.”

“Come on lovie, dance with me!” he approached you, holding his hand out, “If you don’t I’m going to be sad” he said in a dramatic voice, and you passed your camera to Sarah who was sitting next to you, getting her to film the both of you.

“I want to kiss you right now but we can’t take off our masks,” Harry said before a minute of jumping around, “Easy tiger, we’ll be alone soon.”

“Rehearsal time!” you said cheerfully, filming everyone on stage, “Here’s Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Niji, Ny,” they all waved as you mentioned their names, “And there’s a dude called Harry who claims to be the headliner of the show, no one knows him tho.”

“Come on woman,” Harry gave you an annoyed playful look, “You know me, very well. Actually you know parts of my body that-“

“Harry! What’s with you and your horny comments all the time, you’re like a teenager!” you shook your head, all of his bandmates laughing at your banter.

“Can you blame me? I go home to you every night, I’m a lucky bastard.”

“That you are!” Pauli chimed in, making everyone laugh again.

The band continued rehearsing, you standing in a corner and catching some moments on video. Once they were done with Canyon Moon, Harry called for you.

“So, love. What do you think? Do we sound good.” Harry asked, looking at your with happy eyes, aware that you were still getting it all on camera.

“If by we you mean your band, they sound amazing as always. If you’re included in that ‘we’ then I don’t know, you should practice some more”.

Harry threw his head back in laughter, grabbing the hem of his shirt with one hand and his mic with the other, “Why are you sassy with me today! What have I done?”

You only shrugged and laughed along with him, getting on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek softly.

“Practice some more, I said!”

“Aren’t you the cutest little thing ever?” you cooed at the baby in your lap, Mitch and Sarah asked you to watch their son while they run something with the rest of the band and you were more than happy to do it, “You’re the sweetest boy I know!”

“I thought I was the sweetest boy you knew!” Harry’s voice made its way to you ears, he entered the room accompanied by Mitch and Sarah, the baby instantly making grabby hands at his mom.

“You’re not a boy anymore, you’re basically pushing 30!”

“Don’t remind me!” he dramatically said, “I’m still young and full of life.”

The four of you laughed, Sarah moving to sit next to you and Mitch and Harry hanging out by the door.

“Did he give you any trouble?” Sarah asked, looking down at her son, “He just learned how to walk without any help do he could be a handful sometimes.”

“Not at all, he’s the easiest baby ever.” You smiled at them tenderly.

“He’s not only obsessed with walking, he’s obsessed with dancing too.” Mitch said before taking a sip out of his wine glass, he’s never without one.

“Oh! I didn’t know that!” Harry said excitedly, “Baby, dance for us!”

Sarah put him down and Harry tried to make a melody by hitting the wall and mumbling random stuff, the boy instantly moving his body in an adorable way that made everyone laugh and awe at him.

Harry noticed that you had grabbed your camera to film the moment and he spoke directly to it, “That’s it! We have Love On Tour’s official dancer”

“Here’s the boss man, with his brand new Love On Tour jacket,” you filmed Harry, who was posing by the door showing off his new clothing, “I have my own too, with my name on it and all,” you turned the camera around to show yours briefly before turning it to Harry again, “Anything you would like to say?”

“It’s show time, baby!” he bobbed his head, making the sunglasses who were resting on his head fall to his eyes.

You burst out laughing and so did he after a minute of holding his straight face, “You’re such a dork!”

“But you love me a lot!”

“Eu te amo, Brasil!” Harry yelled to the empty stadium after sound-checking Lights Up.

“As you can see, he’s excited to be here,” you zoomed in on him with your camera, “We love this country so much.”

“We do, we do,” Harry agreed, “I’m putting on my best dance clothes and shoes tonight, this show is going to be massive!”

“You’re a dancer now?” you asked to piss him off.

“Of course! Look at my moves.” He grabbed his mic with one hand, putting the other on his hip and moving funnily.

“Look at that! You’re going straight to Dancing with the Stars after this tour.”

“I’m more of a Dancing Moms kinda guy.” He shrugged, making everyone laugh before moving on with the next song to rehearse.

“There it is, the 10th tweet about how they’re going to the show for Lloyd only.” You giggled, scrolling down your timeline while Harry watched over your shoulders.

“Okay, that’s it,” he said before standing up, “Lloyd Wakefield !” at this, the photographer turned his head around, previously in a conversation with Madi and some other crew members.

“Yes?” Lloyd asked in a confused tone, you stood back and grabbed your camera, knowing a funny moment you would love to remember was coming.

“I might have to fire you,” Harry said, his voice trying to sound serious but his eyes gave him away, “You’re stealing the show and I can’t accept that.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes and everyone in the room turned their attention to them with grins on their faces, they were used to Harry’s humor.

“Yeah? And who’s going to be your photographer now?”

“Or we could solve this like manly man, with a fight.”

“As if you would fight anyone!” you chimed in from your place, making them turn your attention to you.

“Is that my own girlfriend doubting me?” he said, faking an offended tone, “Bring it in, Wakefield”

Lloyd laughed but played along, bringing his arms up and playfully challenging Harry, but somehow they ended up putting their hands together and moving them back and forth.

“Look at the manly man, fighting for who’s the star of the show,” you said, your camera focusing on them, “Just another day on the road.”

“I don’t know what we’re doing but I’m winning!” Harry chirped and everyone laughed again.

“Harry! Harry! Harry!”

Was all that was heard backstage at Reggio Emilia RFC Arena, some people holding up champagne glasses and jumping up and down.

“We did it!” Harry yelled as he placed himself in the center of the room, his vest long forgotten, jumping and twirling along with the cheers.

As usual, you were holding your camera, filming the special you knew he would want to replay over and over again.

“Congratulations baby, another world tour completed!” you said to him, “Any final words you would like to say to the camera.”

Harry paused to think for a few seconds before speaking, “I love you, that’s all,” she shook his head almost in disbelief, “You have been here for every step of the way, and that means the world to me, none of this would be possible without you.”

“Awe! Aren’t you a softie?” Jeff cheered, throwing his arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair playfully.

“I’m just in love.” He winked at the camera and that was your cue to turn it off and take in the moment.

For three years, Love On Tour ruled the world and changed yours, giving you the opportunity to be by Harry’s side for every milestone and special moment.

The tour might had come to an end, but the memories created around it would last forever.

And you were glad you got them all on camera.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe